by Tessa Teevan
Walking down the hallway, I look at the pictures on the wall. There are pictures of us all growing up, and when I get to the end, I stop abruptly and can’t help but be shocked as hell. All of our graduation pictures hang on the wall, and there’s a wedding picture of Branson and Megan, which I pass over quickly. But the last section of wall is all me. My Boot Camp graduation picture is there, and I can’t suppress the smile that comes to my face, knowing that I look like a fucking kid swimming in a uniform. There are framed newspaper clippings from awards and decorations ceremonies. And holy fuck, there’s even a framed timeline of all my promotions. How in the hell did they get all this? And why? I wonder how long they’ve been following my career. I honestly thought they’d just written me off, and I didn’t know any different because I never let Cohen talk about them.
The last picture is my undoing, and I have to swallow hard as I collect my bearings. It’s a photograph of me lying on a stretcher in Afghanistan, taken by Public Affairs when they flew me out of there. Moving in, I read the caption: “Local hero Knox Wellington being medevaced after the detonation of a roadside bomb. His current condition is unknown.”
I don’t even realize that Charlie’s beside me until I hear her gasp. Looking towards her, I see that she has tears in her eyes and her hand is covering her mouth.
“That’s you,” she says softly.
Pulling her into me, I press a kiss against her head. “That was me, babe. And I got through it. I’m here. With you, okay?” I ask, looking into her eyes to make sure she really is fine. We’ve never talked in depth about the incident, so this is the first time she’s really coming face to face with my job. I’m guessing it’s a shock to her.
Nodding, she presses her head against my chest, embracing me. I’m not sure who’s comforting whom right now, but it doesn’t really matter. Seeing that my family didn’t completely forget me is both painful and encouraging. Painful because I allowed myself to think the worst all these years, but encouraging because it makes me think that everything’s going to be fine.
I don’t know how long we stand there, and I’m about to pull away when a voice interrupts us.
“Knox? Is that really you?’ I still at hearing the voice of my mother, the one woman I thought would never betray me but ended up doing so anyway.
Turning around, I find myself face to face with her for the first time in eleven years and I don’t know what to feel. I’m wondering how I look to her. When I left home, I was a boy. Young, naïve, stupid. I’ve put on over forty pounds of muscle since joining the Army, and now that I’ve come home, I’m a man. It’s probably weird, but I stand up just a little bit taller, hoping to put the changes in me on display, letting her know I’m not some kid who can be pushed around anymore.
Taking a moment to study her, I realize she looks the same, but I guess that’s what money will do for you. Looking surprised to see me, she extends an arm then detracts it immediately.
“I…I didn’t think you’d actually come,” she whispers.
“I didn’t think I would either, but Cohen wanted me here. And well, I think I’m ready to let go of the past,” I tell her, pulling Charlie closer to me.
Surprising me, she reaches her hand out to my mom. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Charlotte Davenport, but most people call me Charlie,” she says, sending her an award-winning smile.
My mom takes Charlie’s hand, shaking it softly. “Amelia Wellington. It’s very nice to meet you, Charlie,” she says, surprising me that she’d use a nickname.
“Knox, can we speak privately?” Mom asks, and a sense of dread and apprehension washes over me. Might as well get this over with.
Charlie begins to back away, but I draw her in closer. “Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of Charlie.” Mom nods, and motions for us to follow her.
She leads us to a remote den and closes the door. Sighing, she walks to the bar and pours herself a glass of brandy before motioning for us to sit. Taking a sip of her drink, she briefly closes her eyes before letting out a deep breath. She sits in an oversized chair and looks directly at me. My leg’s shaking, due to the nerves I’m feeling from wondering what she’s going to say. I’m not even sure at this point what I want her to say, what she could say to make everything fine between us. I’m worried it’s been too long, that we’re too far gone. Right now, the only thing keeping me from getting back in my car and going home is the girl sitting beside me.
“Knox…I have no idea where to start. I’m ashamed…so ashamed for far I let things go, for this division between us. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you have to know that I am sorry for everything that happened. When you came home from the recruitment office and told us your plans, I lost it. You were always my sweetest boy, and the thought of you joining the military scared the hell out of me. It’d been less than a year since the September 11 attacks, and I couldn’t stand the idea that my child would be soon going off to war, which is why I broke down like I did. I should’ve let you explain at the time, and every day I pray I had, because I think I could have tried to understand why you needed to get away.” She pauses to take a sip of her brandy, swallowing hard, and I’m wishing I had one of those right about now. I don’t know what I was thinking was going to happen, but an apology didn’t even cross my mind, which is now reeling from her words. Words I didn’t even know I’d needed until she said them, but the moment I heard them, something—relief, maybe—washed over me. Years of pain and disappointment begin to fade away and I’m realizing that maybe it’s time to let go. Time to forgive.
Clearing my throat, I know I can be man enough to admit my part in this whole thing. “I should’ve explained. I know it was sudden, and it went against everything I’d been planning for my future, but I couldn’t get the words out. I already had the image of what they’d done engrained in my mind, and voicing what I saw, I just…” I trail off, not wanting to think about it. Charlie squeezes my hand, and when I look at her, she gives me a reassuring smile.
Nodding, my mother continues. “I understand that now. When you left, even after your father’s ultimatum, he and Branson convinced me that you were the one who left Megan and that you’d used your brother to make it sound like you were the wronged one. She even agreed that you two had been done before she began seeing him.”
“Bullshit. That’s not what happened,” I protest, more shocked that she believed their story but not surprised that Megan and Branson both lied about it.
A look of what I can only guess is shame crosses her face. “I didn’t know she was lying until Cohen told me that he’d overheard them talking about it. Then it was too late. You were gone, and I had no idea where you were. But I was so wrong, Knox, and I’ve been paying for it ever since. I should’ve known. From the moment you were born, you were my little sweetheart.” She pauses, and I’m reminded of all the times I spent as a kid helping her in the kitchen or listening to her cheer loud from the sidelines at my baseball games. Until Cohen came, I’d always been close with my mom, and I’m wondering how I forgot all those times.
She continues before I can dwell on it. “I knew you had the kindest heart out of all my boys and you would never hurt someone you loved. Instead I let myself believe them, and I was so wrong. And it’s been killing me ever since I found out the truth. I’ve missed out on so much of your life, all because of a lie. A lie I should’ve never believed in the first place.”
She bursts into tears, and it takes everything in me not to move to her, to let me comfort her, the way she did for me when I was little, but I’m just not ready. Sitting here, I can feel a burning sadness from knowing that if I hadn’t been a stubborn ass and forwarded my contact information every time I switched posts, maybe all of this would’ve been resolved years ago. Cohen was only eleven when I left home, and I’d send him random postcards without a return address. It wasn’t until he was fourteen that he tracked me down through email and we became brothers again. I made him promise not to tell my parents wher
e I was, and as much as I know that it pained him to do so, he still kept my secret.
Slowly, she regains her composure. “The local newspaper loved featuring you every chance they could, proud of the Hometown Hero, as they called you. It made it easy to follow your career throughout the years. I’m not ashamed to admit I had to medicate myself every time I saw something about your platoon heading overseas. I was so terrified of losing you, even though I no longer had you. This last time…when Cohen told me you were in the hospital, I couldn’t stay away any longer. I know you probably don’t know this, but I was there, every single day. By the time you finally woke up, Cohen thought it’d be best if I left.”
An overwhelming sense of confusion rushes through me at her revelation, and I need her to clarify. To say it out loud. “You were at the hospital? Why?”
“Cohen’s kept me up to date with your service since he’s been old enough to really understand it. I know you had some agreement. He made me promise not to contact you unless you made a hint that you wanted it, and while that stung, I respected his—your—wishes. But when he got the call that you were in a coma, he freaked out and called me. Which lead to me almost having a meltdown and realizing that life is way too short not to have my son in my life. I love you, Knox. I always have. That will never, ever change. And after several fights between your father and me, I got in the car and made the drive to Ft. Campbell. I know I’ve been a shit mother, but you’re my son. I’ve screwed up for far too long. I needed to be there. I had to see that you were okay. And once you were, everyone thought it’d be best if I left,” she says, looking away from me.
Sighing, I honestly have no idea what to say. Or to even think at this point. “So you did actually come see me?” I ask, for some reason needing further clarification even though she’s already said it twice.
“Yes, Knox. I was there.”
Something fierce unleashes inside me, and I’m on my feet, pacing the room. I'm so caught off guard by her admission, and I have no idea how to feel right now. On one hand, I’m relieved. For the longest time, I thought I had lain in that hospital bed for three weeks and that even that wasn’t enough for my parents to come see me. That Megan, of all people, was the only one from my past who’d showed up, and I can admit that it hurt like hell. Hearing that my mother was actually there, that she did actually care, unnerves me.
“So you were there. You were in the fucking hospital room, after not having spoken to me in eleven years. Why didn’t you stick around? Why didn’t you fight them when they said you should leave? If you so badly wanted to be back in my life, why would you run when you had the perfect chance to make me listen to you?” I ask, wondering at the same time if I’d even have been up for listening to her if she’d tried.
“I wish I knew. I think, in the end, I was a coward. I had no idea how you were going to feel about my being there, and I didn’t think I could watch you in that hospital bed and demand that I leave. Because that’s what I was afraid of. That you’ve had enough time to hate me, and although I wouldn’t blame you, I don’t think I could have faced it. I told myself that I’d wait until you were out of the hospital and fully healed and hope to God that you’d be ready someday.”
Still pacing, I can feel Charlie watching me, and even though I want her close to me, I need to work this out in my head. “So you sent Megan?” I ask her, wondering why she would even think that would be a good idea.
“No, no, I’d never do that. Cohen told me what happened in the hospital. She was in charge of the invitations, and when I asked her to send you one if he would give her your address, I never would’ve guessed that she’d think to hand deliver it. I was surprised when she told me she saw you and you were considering coming. I’m so glad you did.” She stops to wipe away a few tears, and I’m trying to process everything she’s throwing at me when she goes straight for the heart. “I love you, and I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. As painful as it was, I think you getting out of Belle Meade is the best thing you ever did. I’m just sad I missed it all. I’ll never be able to say it enough, but I am so sorry, Knox, and I will be for the rest of my life.”
Crossing to her, I crouch down on the ground in front of her chair. “Momma, I’m not gonna lie. It’s going to take time for me to process all of this. I’ve had over a decade to build up my anger and resentment. One night isn’t going to make everything turn into rainbows and butterflies.” I pause as tears begin to fall down her cheeks.
I thought it’d be strange calling her what I always did as a kid, but saying Momma for the first time in eleven years brings on a sense of renewal—redemption even.
She’s not looking at me when she nods and I watch as her fingers pick at the tissue in her hand. Lifting her chin, I make her look at me. “That being said, I want you to know that I appreciate everything you just told me. And maybe I was wrong to keep Cohen from letting you know where I was. Maybe I was wrong for not explaining why I was leaving, and I’m sorry for that.” My thumb swipes her cheek, wiping the tears from her face. “I don’t know where things will go from here, but I love you, too. No matter what distance separated us that never changed. I’d like for you to be in my life, for us to find our common ground. And maybe, someday soon, we can be a family again.” I never imagined that coming here would lead to this, and if it weren’t for Charlie, I wouldn’t be opening up to my mother this way, but it feels good. It feels right. It feels like home.
Tears start streaming down her face, and I stand, pulling her up with me. I wrap my arms around her as she sobs into my chest, and I have to close my eyes when I feel the moisture pooling in them. I have no idea how long we stand here, but as her weeping begins to fade, I can hear the latch of the door closing. When I look up, I see that Charlie’s left us alone.
Mom pulls away from me and gestures towards the door. “She seems like a special girl, Knox.”
Looking at the closed door, I nod in agreement. “You have no idea.”
FEELINGS OF both elation and sadness are flowing through me as I watch Knox and Amelia. For a few minutes there, he wouldn’t let go of my hand, gripping it as if I were a lifeline, the only thing keeping him anchored in a stormy sea of emotional torment as he listened to his mother’s tearful apology. When he started pacing, I could see him warring with himself, fighting the battle of wanting to believe her as her words lay assault on the wall he’s built around his heart. It wasn’t until he knelt before her and wiped her tears that mine threatened to spill over.
Now that he’s pulled her into his arms, I know he doesn’t need me anymore, and I decide to give them their space. In this moment, he needs his mother, not me, and I want to respect their privacy. Slipping out of the room, I decide to roam, hoping that I can find Cohen or some friendly face that doesn’t mind talking to a stranger.
Walking towards the sounds of music, I find myself in an enormous to-die-for kitchen. I can’t help but trail my fingers across the expensive granite countertops. Cherry oak cabinets are spread throughout the room, and a gorgeous island is the focal point, resting in the center. I’m in a daze as I imagine amazing home-cooked meals when a sugary voice rips me from my daydream.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. As much as I want to hate her, I take a deep breath, knowing I won’t do anything to ruin Knox’s day, especially after what just happened.
Slowly turning around, I muster up the closest thing I can to a smile. This girl doesn’t even deserve a fake one. “Hello, Megan. I was just admiring the kitchen while I wait on Knox. I’ve never see wood this gorgeous,” I tell her, trying to make small talk when I really just want to be a raging bitch.
Rolling her eyes, she scoffs. “I’m not surprised. I can’t imagine they have kitchens like this in that simple-ass, country Army town.”
I shrug my shoulders as I continue to touch the granite. “We sure don’t,” I drawl, trying to sound like the country hick I know she thinks I am for some unknown reason. “Bu
t Knox and I make do with our little, simple kitchen. And it just means that we’re more likely to bump into each other in such a tight, little space.” She scowls as I wink at her, and I know she catches my drift. Okay, so we don’t exactly have a small kitchen, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“You and Knox live together?” she asks, eyebrows raised. “I thought he was perpetually single, having sworn off relationships.” I’m curious to know where she heard that, but I’m not going to play into it.
“I guess people change. We’ve only been livin’ together since June. They’ve been the best three months of my life. I just can’t get enough of that man,” I gush, placing my hand over my heart. I know I’m laying it on thick, but the way her face is turning red has me wanting to laugh, and I can’t help myself from teasing her.
She’s about to respond when the door leading outside opens and a tall, attractive man enters the room. There’s no mistaking that he’s a Wellington, and I surmise that this has to be Branson. I can’t help but glare at him for a moment like he’s Public Enemy #1. Fortunately, I catch myself and study him when he joins Megan across the island from me.
He’s a little shorter than Knox, but there’s no doubt that they’re brothers. His eyes are the same green, but they’re tired, worn, with dark circles under them that I can probably attribute to years of working himself to the bone. His blond hair is grown out, perfectly styled. The main difference that I notice is his smile. It’s excruciatingly fake, and I wonder if his jaw hurts by the end of the day from how huge he’s cheesing. Knox, on the other hand, doesn’t know what the hell a fake smile even is. Every single grin, every single smirk, every single heart-stopping smile I get from him is one hundred percent genuine.
