By the time I had finished in the bathroom and showered, Ezra had retreated to his room while dad and Cara had returned to the kitchen. As I walked around the corner, the sound of conversation ceased.
My dad sat looking through the screen door while Cara finished filling glasses with orange juice. She hummed as I sat down, placing the pitcher of juice in the middle of the table.
Each plate around the table held scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast, their smell quickly finding my nose. My stomach rumbled as Ezra walked into the kitchen from the back of the house. His hair had been brushed and his clothes changed since we spoke in the hallway.
Ezra’s eyes immediately found me as well as the empty chair next to me at the table. He nodded to Cara as she passed him on her way back into the kitchen. My dad still refused to turn from his view of the backyard.
As he sat next to me, Ezra watched as I sipped my orange juice, the corner of his mouth pulled up in greeting.
Good morning, you two. Ezra, is there anything I can get you?
No, ma’am. Everything is great. Thank you.
Now you stop it with that ma’am stuff. Call me Cara. And if you need anything, let us know. We will be happy to help.
That’s very kind. Thank you, Cara.
Cara exited the kitchen, rounding the corner of the counter and finding her seat next to my father. She smiled as Ezra addressed her as requested. My father jolted as if kicked under the table as Cara offered the jams and butter placed near her plate. He turned to face us, his eyes glancing over Cara first, then me and Ezra.
Morning, everyone. Cara, breakfast looks delicious as always.
That’s very kind of you, Henry, and also very smart to tell the person who cooks your meals.
My father eyed her mischievously as he buttered his toast. She returned his expression with her own sassy wiggle of the eyebrows before turning her attention to her plate.
I glanced at Ezra who seemed to be studying how the two of them interacted at the other end of the table. When he noticed me watching him, he picked up his fork and began slowly prodding the eggs with its prongs.
Taking advantage of Cara and my dad having their own discussion, I turned to talk to Ezra. His eyes were as blue as the summer sky as we met eye contact over his plate.
Are you ready for the real tour today?
The real tour?
Yeah, I want to show you around the farm after breakfast. Maybe drive the tractor if dad will let me.
My dad looked up when I mentioned his tractor and eyed the ornery grin spreading across my face. He pointed his fork directly at me as he spoke, his brown eyes twinkling.
Charlotte Elizabeth, you stay off my tractor. That’s my baby.
But, Dad, I thought I was your baby.
He rolled his eyes at my poorly attempted puppy dog face, returning back to his conversation with Cara.
Okay, scratch that plan. Just the tour then.
Yeah, sounds good.
The four of us finished our breakfast and placed our plates in the sink. Immediately, I grabbed Ezra’s hand and pulled him toward the back door. I heard my dad call after us as the screen door smacked shut, followed by an immediate scold from Cara.
Don’t go too far now!
Oh, Henry, let them be.
Ezra seemed to finally relax as we distanced ourselves from my dad and Cara. His hand, at first rigid, was now soft against my own.
What’s wrong, Ezra? Do you not want to be here?
What? No, I want to be here.
Then, why are you so stiff around them?
He sighed, looking over at the hammock and yellow lawn chairs before hesitantly answering my question.
I guess I’m just not used to a family who actually gets along. I can’t shake the feeling that your dad is going to start yelling at me like my dad.
Ezra, this isn’t your family, it’s mine. I promise no one is going to yell at you. Now, relax and enjoy our summer break with me. That was the whole point, right?
You’re right. Let’s go. Give me this tour you were talking about so much during breakfast.
I smiled as Ezra visibly relaxed, his eyes no longer guarded and his body not nearly as tense. During the morning, I showed Ezra all my favorite places on the farm: the chicken coop, the barn where my dad’s tractor was stored, and the hammock where I spent countless hours reading.
By the time we were finished walking around the farm, the afternoon had brought with it an oppressive humidity. The sun bore down on our shoulders as we both wiped our foreheads of sweat.
And this is the pond. I used to swim here all the time as a kid.
The wood of the dock creaked under our shoes as we walked its distance, surrounding ourselves with the gentle waters.
The water looks amazing. It’s so hot out here.
Ezra pulled his phone out of his pocket and set it safely on the dock. I watched as he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it toward his phone. He eyed the pockets of my shorts, likely looking for the shape of my phone. As I began backing away from him, Ezra grinned playfully.
You left your phone in the house, right?
No, I have it right here.
Show it to me.
A squeal escaped my lips as he grabbed me by the waist before I could run away. He picked me up, cradling me in his arms before stepping off the dock into the water.
The cool water enveloped us, my clothes floating around me as we broke the surface. Ezra’s head was already bobbing above the waves when I opened my eyes to find him.
You jerk!
He laughed as I began swimming after him, my feet failing to touch the bottom the further away we ventured from the dock. When I had given up my chase, Ezra pulled himself up on the rough deck, the swell of his triceps gleaming as the sunlight hit the water running off of him.
He offered his hand down to me as I stood contemplating my ascent onto the dock’s wooden boards.
No. You’ll throw me back in.
I promise I won’t. Now grab my hand.
His hand was much larger than my own, his long fingers cupping the majority of my palm as he effortlessly pulled me from the water. Ezra stayed sitting on the edge of the dock with his feet in the water as I stood.
Immediately, I noticed how revealing my clothes were as they clung to every curve of my body. The sunlight illuminated his vivid blue eyes as he quickly glanced down at my clothes and then away at the water whirling around his feet as he kicked.
I pulled my tank top and shorts away from my body and sat next to him on the warped wood of the dock. His hand immediately found mine as we both looked around at the surrounding fields and blue sky.
It was difficult to keep my eyes from his gleaming skin as we sat in the bright sunlight. His skin was smooth and tight against his trim, muscular frame.
So why do they call you Lottie?
Um, I don’t really know. My family has called me that for as long as I can remember. Doesn’t your family have a nickname for you?
No, my family is pretty formal with just about everything. I could count on one hand the number of times my dad has called me son.
I pursed my lips and watched as droplets of water skimmed down my legs.
Wow. From what you’ve told me about your family, I picture a mansion where your dad always wears a suit and your mom always looks flawless.
Ezra shook his head and kicked his feet harder against the water.
No. My dad wears sweaters sometimes.
Although he chuckled at his joke, I could sense the resentment he felt toward his parents. Suddenly, I heard the sound of an engine close by. I looked up to find my Uncle Roy driving from the back fields on a four-wheeler.
He stopped near the edge of the pond and waved over to us. My uncle looked similar to my dad with brown hair and brown eyes. But he was the exact opposite of my dad in personality.
Most of my memories of my uncle consisted of him either hurting himself or very narrowly avoiding disaster. He was hilariously goo
fy but more careless than his older brother.
Well, there’s Lottie! I didn’t know you were home already.
Hey, Roy. Yeah, got in yesterday.
Who do you have with you?
This is my boyfriend, Ezra.
Boyfriend? How’s my big brother feel about that? Oh, boy, I can only imagine.
Roy shook his head as he seemed to be imagining my dad’s response to Ezra’s visit. In a way, his exaggerated movements and conversation reminded me of Sophie.
Tell me, boy. Has he threatened you yet?
Uncertain of how to interact with my uncle, Ezra glanced over at me and then nodded his head in confirmation of Roy’s question.
Yeah, that’s what I thought. My brother is a little more tightly wound than I am. But if you hurt my niece, I’ll help him bury you in the back fields.
Ezra’s eyes widened as Roy’s burst of laughter traveled across the pond. With a wink of the eye, Roy revved the engine of the four-wheeler and took off toward the house. I snickered under my breath at Roy’s reckless driving before turning my attention back to Ezra. He was also watching my uncle’s ascent to the house but his expression was void of humor.
Great. There’s two of them.
I rolled my eyes and stood up on the dock. His eyes locked on mine as I smiled at his alarm. Then, without warning, I sprinted toward the end of the dock and jumped back into its cool depths.
When I reached the surface, Ezra was already jumping toward me in a cannonball position. After the awkwardness at the house, it was nice to see Ezra back to his normal, happy self.
Deep down, I knew the tension would eventually dwindle and I would do everything I could to make sure of it.
Thirty-One
The next week gave us no luck in easing the tension. Not even the presence of Roy on the farm could make Ezra or my dad lighten up.
One evening, storms blew in and forced everyone to stay inside the house. My dad took to his mancave while Roy, Ezra, and I played cards at the dining table. Of course, Cara felt the need to be in the kitchen. Taking care of people came natural to her in the form of delicious food and hugs.
Ezra and I sat across from Roy at the table, eyeing one another over our playing cards.
I can see right through you, Lottie. You have a horrible poker face.
That’s because we’re playing rummy, Roy.
Well, count me out then.
He faked exasperation as he dramatically threw down his cards and pulled at his hair. His hair was longer than my dad’s, running past his ears in sections. The theatrics only made it more untamed than before.
My dad’s younger brother by five years, he was shorter and lankier than my father. By far, he was a handsome man to many but held a sort of goofiness that put you at ease around him.
His eyes were much sharper than my father’s, holding both an intelligence and orneriness. Growing up, he would push his forehead against mine and stare deep into my eyes until I blinked. It was by far the most intense staring contest I’d ever had and probably ever would.
Roy was far from clinically insane but his carefree silliness definitely made him unpredictable. Once you understood his harmless impulsiveness, he really grew on you with his warm, accepting demeanor.
Ezra, my man, I have no chance. You cannot let her win again. Bring home the victory for me, son. Avenge me.
Ezra’s teeth shown bright as his smile stretched across his face. He eyed his cards mischievously and drew a card from the deck. With twinkling eyes, he laid down all of his cards in sets on the table, sitting tall as he won the game.
Oh, Ezra. We finally took down the queen of rummy. How does defeat taste, Lottie?
Like that time you helped Cara make cookies.
Roy smiled across the table as we heard a murmured “Oh, Lord” from the kitchen.
They weren’t that bad.
Roy, you used salt instead of sugar. Even my dad couldn’t keep a straight face. When we threw them out in the fields, the birds wouldn’t even eat them.
You have gone too far this time, Lottie. You’ll be eating your words when I come home with a blue ribbon for those cookies.
As long as I don’t have to eat the cookies.
Cara’s peal of laughter came from the kitchen as I bested my uncle in wit. Roy even laughed as he realized his defeat, standing up from the chair and offering his hand for a shake.
Well done. Long live the queen.
Ezra grabbed the cards from the table and began shuffling them as Roy disappeared to the back room where my dad could be heard rummaging around.
A heavenly aroma came from the kitchen as Cara prepared dinner. Ezra’s nose went in the air as he sat the deck of cards flat on the table. I followed him as he stood and tracked down the delicious scent.
Smells good, Cara. What are you making?
Thank you, Ezra. Chicken and dumplings.
Oh, cool. I’ve never seen how they’re made before. Can I watch?
Cara turned from the counter, flour coating her hands as she mixed the dumpling dough in a bowl. Beside her on the stove was a stockpot full of chicken broth, the source of the smell.
You can do more than watch. You want to help?
Ezra’s eyes brightened as Cara offered to teach him her family recipe. She pointed at the sink and instructed him to wash his hands before diving into the dough.
You’ve been touching the same cards as Roy. Heaven only knows where his hands have been.
In my usual spot at the counter, I watched as Cara guided Ezra through our dinner’s preparation.
You want your broth to come to a boil before you drop your dumplings. Now, grab that dough I just made and put it on our floured counter.
Ezra was skilled with his hands, executing every instruction Cara gave him perfectly. I grinned as I witnessed him relax around her, returning to the same witty, lovable Ezra who won me over.
Cara seemed excited by his presence in the kitchen, smiling as he carefully cut the rolled dough into strips on the counter. His fingers were coated in flour as he dropped the dough into the boiling broth, leaning over the pot to watch the magic happen.
You don’t have to thicken the broth?
No, honey, the dumplings do all the work for you. When we’ve added all the dough, it’ll start looking more like dumplings than chicken noodle soup.
Cool. Thank you for teaching me, Cara.
It was my pleasure, Ezra. You know, I taught Lottie to cook, too. Been around since she was in junior high.
How did you all meet?
I work at a local grocery store where her and Henry would shop on a normal basis.
I interjected into the conversation as she recounted first coming into our lives.
She won us over pretty quickly, filling a void we didn’t want to admit we had.
Lottie, you completed me much more than I have you and your father.
Don’t be so modest. Cara has been like a mom to me for years and I would never trade her.
Cara’s eyes grew misty as I voiced my love for her to Ezra, who was still slowly adding the dumplings to the pot.
Thank you, Lottie. I was never trying to take her place, you know.
I know, Cara. But sometimes life has a way of filling the holes left empty. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Cara stepped toward me with her arms spread wide, a tear falling down her cheek. I stood and accepted the tight embrace, fighting the mist now forming in my own eyes.
I love you, baby girl.
Love you, Cara.
She kissed the top of my head and squeezed me one last time before stepping back toward Ezra. Her eyes followed his hands as he attempted to give us privacy during our unexpected, heartfelt moment.
You are doing a wonderful job, Ezra. Are you sure you haven’t made this before?
No, ma’am. First time.
Well, you’re a natural. Lottie, you’ve got yourself a keeper.
Cara winked at me before grabbing the wooden spoon and stirr
ing the pot. The steam from the pot flickered as she brought the spoon back out of the mixture. Thick, gravy-like liquid dripped from the spoon, a sign that the dumplings were finished.
See what I told you? The dumplings tell you when they’re done. The sauce is thick and the dumplings are puffed up nicely. Now all we have to do is eat.
Ezra walked over to the sink to wash the clumps of flour from his hands. Together, him and Cara set the table for dinner and ladled our bowls full of the delectable dumplings.
Henry, Roy. Dinner is on the table!
It didn’t take long for the brothers to follow the scent of dinner and find their seats at the table. They seemed relaxed as they walked around the corner of the hallway but it didn’t take long for my dad to tense at the sight of Ezra.
I turned to see if Ezra had noticed his change in behavior and found that Ezra was also rigid. It had been a week since we’d been there and nothing had changed. Cara and I believed the tension would diminish as time went by. But, if anything, it had grown worse.
My anger bubbled up as I looked around the table. Roy and Cara were happily conversing on either side of my dad while he and Ezra were stiff as boards and silent.
That’s it. I’ve had enough.
All eyes were wide as they watched me put my spoon down and stand from my seat. My finger was raised at my father as a mother would scold her misbehaving child.
I’m sick of this tension between the two of you. It’s been a week and it’s only gotten worse.
Lottie…
My dad placed his napkin on the table beside his bowl as he met my eye contact.
No, Dad, you had your chance to talk. Now it’s my turn. I know why you’re acting like this. And it’s not his fault.
His mouth opened to interject again but I wouldn’t allow it. My finger was pointing every direction at this point as my voice rose.
Ezra is not Mason nor is he trying to be. He is my boyfriend and I would appreciate you being nice. No more threatening or silent treatment. And stop cleaning your gun. There is no way it needs cleaned that often.
My dad had given up interrupting my rant, knowing fully that when I was heated, there was no stopping it. With my point made to my dad, I turned toward Ezra who looked like a child aware his punishment was coming.
The Walls We Built Page 17
