by Anna Paige
My hand shook as I lifted the foam coffee cup to my lips. Blowing on the steaming contents, I slowly blinked, the closest I could come to an answer.
"You said 'Please take me with you. I should have been with you.'" His voice cracked, and my shoulders began to shake. "That's when it hit me. Maybe what I'd done, pushing you into coming over, had kept you out of that car. Maybe you would have died too if I hadn't manipulated you into staying the weekend." He took a deep, ragged breath. "As horrible as it is, I was relieved. I'd been so focused on what was lost, it never occurred to me to be grateful for what I still had."
He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "I swore I'd never tell you any of this. I didn't want to add to your misery, but maybe it will be your wake-up call. Hell, maybe you should have heard this years ago." He shoved my shoulder slightly. "Stop blaming yourself for shit that wasn't your fault. Stop walking around focusing on what's missing from your life and start seeing how full it is. We all make decisions every damn day that have the potential to change our lives. Stop punishing yourself for a decision from twenty years ago and take a hard look at the ones you're making right now."
I sat my coffee on the counter and braced myself on my hands, needing a minute to get my shit together before I could speak. I took a few slow, deep breaths and forced down the massive lump in my throat. Turning to Spencer, I said, "What if I decide wrong again, Spence? What if I fight for her and later realize she was better off without me?"
He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. When he reentered the room, he leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest, his crisp, clean shirt a stark contrast to the faded wallpaper. "Do you remember how obsessed I used to be with cars and racing?" I nodded, not sure where this was going. "I sat in front of the television every damn weekend, watching any and every type of race I could find, but my favorites were always road course races."
I smiled involuntarily at the rush of memories of us drinking glass bottles of root beer in his den, yelling at the television and trying to act like grown-ups. "Yeah, you said they were harder, and that made them more fun."
He snapped his fingers, looking pleased. "Exactly. Not knowing what was around the corner made it more dangerous but doubled the thrill. Sometimes they spun out and ended up in the dirt, but they always ran as hard as they could." He smiled. "Life isn't a drag race, Clay. You don't get to see the finish line before you even start. Life's a road course, blind curves and ending up in the dirt are part of the package. Everyone spins out. The difference between being alive and truly living is having the balls to get back on the track and finish the damn race."
He nodded to the steam-filled bathroom. "Get yourself cleaned up and get back in the fucking race or sit there in the grass sucking dust. It's time to sack up, man." He headed for the door, tossing a small packet onto the dresser as he went. "I'll bring you some clothes from the cabin, then you can either carry your ass back to Richmond or man up and go find out for yourself what Ali has to say."
When the door closed behind him, I ambled over to the dresser and picked up his offering. It was one of those single dose packages of aspirin you can grab at gas stations. I couldn't help laughing. The guy was always looking out for me.
I replayed our conversation while I stood under the uneven spray of the shower. He was right. It was time to get back in the driver's seat.
And I knew just where to start.
A COUPLE OF HOURS later I was back in my truck, behind the wheel again both figuratively and literally. Spencer hadn't said a word when he came back by and dropped off my clothes and travel bag. He'd handed me my stuff, pulled me in for a quick hug, and then disappeared like a damn phantom before I could even thank him. It was the first time I could recall when he hadn't had a thing to say. He must have decided that he'd talked enough. He'd made his point and left the rest up to me.
I'd made a few calls before checking out of the motel, taking back control of my life one facet at a time. When the final call had been made, I turned my phone off and tossed it into the truck's console. I wouldn't be needing it again for a while.
I reached my destination but stayed in the truck for a few minutes, hands wringing the steering wheel in anticipation.
Man-up, fucker. You can do this.
I stepped out of the truck, the gravel crunching beneath my boots as I made my way to the backyard and the trail beyond. When I reached the path that lead to the lake, rather than striding down quickly, I took my time, looking around and really taking it all in. The pale yellow wildflowers that had framed the path were long gone, victims of time and unseasonable heat, but there were new pops of color that I hadn't noticed. The deep burgundies and pale purples of the newly-blooming summer flowers were lost on me until that moment.
It was the first time since I'd come back here that I actually took the time to drink it all in, the smells of honeysuckle and freshly turned earth, the warm sun on my back, the sound of the wind through the trees. If I closed my eyes for a moment, I felt like that twelve-year-old version of myself, dawdling on the path to forestall getting near the water. I still remembered the feel of warm grass beneath my bare feet as I entered the clearing.
I stood there for a while looking at the lake, really looking at it for the first time. I'd spent the previous few months keeping it in the periphery of my vision and pushing back any feelings of familiarity. Not today, not anymore. I watched the surface ripple as the breeze swept through the valley and remembered. I remembered the first time I'd seen the lake, my mother rushing ahead in her excitement while I stood at a wary distance.
It pained me to think of all the times I'd refused her. So many regrets centered around this place. Keeping my gaze on the water, I walked to the freshly restored pier. I'd refused to have it torn down, using my tendency toward reclaimed and salvaged materials as an excuse to hang onto the original wood. The truth was, I couldn't let them take it away. It was one of her favorite places to relax by the water.
Walking down its weathered surface, I could still picture her there, lounging back on her elbows with her head tilted skyward and the sun on her face. She had been beautiful, my mother. She'd had a real chance of making it big in show business. My father had been right about that. And maybe I had been the reason she gave up on her dreams. If so, she never let on, never acted like she resented me. That was my father's domain. He took every opportunity to remind me that I was a mistake, particularly when my mother was out of earshot. He'd wait until I was really happy about something and swoop in to shit all over it.
I still mourned my mother every day, even twenty years later but when I thought of my father I felt nothing. From what I was told, he was diagnosed with cancer a few years after my mother's death and died alone in some hospital with no one there to comfort him. Maybe it was heartless of me but when Gran had told me the news all I'd said was, "Good."
I'd been stunned when I was contacted months later by an attorney who informed me that as next of kin, I was the sole beneficiary of my father's life insurance policy. I was just about to graduate college at that point, and it gave me great pleasure knowing he'd resent me getting the money. It was his money I used to start my company though I'd never touched anything I'd inherited from my mother. Not even the land I was standing on.
I'd been a minor, so all my assets were held in trust and overseen by my grandparents. When I'd come of age, I refused to sign the papers to take possession, so it remained in Gran's name all these years, every damn bit of it.
I didn't want the money or the land. I wanted her back.
I wanted not to hurt anymore, not to feel guilty anymore, not to feel like a goddamn curse to everyone I cared about.
I blamed myself for her dying, for Gran and Papa having to bury their daughter, for Vanessa losing her only sister.
All that pain was because of me.
And I carried that blame my entire life, shackled by it to the point that I couldn't reach out to anyone else.
As I stoo
d there on the pier, the sun dipping behind the mountains and the smell of wildflowers filling my nose, I wondered if I'd ever feel the kind of peace my mother had found in this place. My mind filled with images of her smiling up at me as she floated by the pier on her back. That was the kind of peace I wanted.
Then my mind flashed to that first night in the pool with Ali, the contented feeling that had overcome me as we floated across the water hand-in-hand so we wouldn't drift apart. My chest tightened when I was hit with the irony. We hadn't drifted apart, we'd been blown apart by my deception. She might have been my one chance at the future my mother had wanted for me, the one I'd rolled my eyes at all those years ago but now wanted more than anything.
I desperately wanted to fix what I'd broken between us, I just didn't know if I should. What if I really was a curse?
"Hey, baby boy. Thinking of going for a swim?"
I jumped so damn high I almost fell in the water. When I spun around, Gran stood at the base of the pier, watching me with a sad smile. She wore her usual concert tee and jeans, today's shirt featuring Breaking Benjamin, a Celtic knot design that looked like a series of linked hearts. Her attire was anything but grandmotherly, but the concern in her eyes left no doubt. That's exactly who and what she was.
My grandmother.
Flustered by her sudden appearance, I asked, "Why did you call me that? No one has called me that since I was twelve."
She shrugged and started toward me. "Not sure. You just looked so small standing there, like when you were a little boy."
I blew out a breath, heart still pounding in my ears. "Yeah, I feel pretty damn small too. How'd you find me?"
The corner of her mouth turned down. "I knew you'd end up here eventually. I didn't expect it to happen this way, though."
"You're the one who forced me to come here." The edge in my voice was undeniable. She had put all this in motion, couldn't leave well enough alone.
Unfazed by the accusation in my tone, she nodded. "I suppose I did. I just wanted to help, Clay. I wanted you to face all this so you could move on. You've been running too long, baby boy."
"Stop calling me that." I snapped.
She looked up at me stonily, hands on her hips. "Watch your tone, Clay McGavran. If you think I can't still kick your ass, you've got another thing coming." She dropped her arms and smoothed her shirt. "Yes, I badgered you into building the house. And yes, I knew it was going to be hard for you but Clay, I wasn't just doing this for you. I was doing it for myself. I was doing it for your Aunt Vanessa and for Daniel." She shook her head, a sad expression on her face. "I needed to feel like I was doing something to honor Rebecca. There's also the possibility that Vanessa might be on her own soon. She and Nicholas are separating for a while, and I wanted her to have somewhere to go in case the break becomes permanent."
"Shit. I had no idea." I thought of Daniel, how confused and sad he must feel. Nicholas loved his son very much and was everything I'd wished my father had been. "How is the little guy taking it?"
"He's handling it well, I think. Nicholas is staying at a hotel but he picks Daniel up from school every day, and they are making everything as normal as possible. Once Daniel goes to bed, Nicholas goes back to the hotel."
Daniel was a smart kid, their attempts at normalcy were admirable, but there was no doubt in my mind that he knew. "What about Vanessa's job? The commute from here is so far. Would she keep working at the hospital?"
Gran shrugged. "Not sure. I haven't discussed the possibility of moving here with her yet. I'm waiting to see how things go. But, at least she'll have options."
Thinking that my mother had wanted the house for the same reasons, I wrapped my arm around Gran's thin shoulders and squeezed. "You're amazing. Anybody tell you that lately?"
"Just a couple of old coots looking for a sucker." She chuckled. "Oh, and all those nice young men at the biker bar. They love my rendition of 'Get the Party Started'."
I groaned and shook my head, pulling away. She worried me sometimes. Ever since my grandfather passed, she'd been acting like a damn teenager. I sort of resented it. To me, it felt like she was happy he was gone.
She watched me as she said, "You don't like me going to those places, do you? You think I should be home knitting or baking or some ridiculous shit like that."
"I just don't understand where it all comes from, that's all. You were never like this before..." I didn't know how to say it without hurting her, dredging up old pain.
"Before what? Before my husband of over fifty damn years left me here all alone?" She was angry and hurt. Dammit. I just couldn't stop messing up. She looked out over the water, blinking rapidly. "You think I wanted to be here without him? That I don't wake up every day with his face in my mind? What I'm doing, running the roads with my friends, going to rock concerts, getting tattoos, traveling, all that is because of how much I loved him, how much I love him still."
She blew out a breath and smiled, her eyes glistening in the fading light. "When we were growing up, there were certain things you didn't do, rules you had to follow to be considered a good person. It was just how things were. People didn't divorce, or go to bars; they didn't get tattoos or listen to rock music. To do those things was to be subjected to the condemnation of others, so we didn't do them." She slipped an arm around my waist, and I tucked her too-thin frame into my side. "When our girls got older, your grandpa was hard on them. He still held to the old standards of behavior and didn't allow Vanessa and Rebecca much freedom. He thought he was doing what was best for them, and I supported him most of the time, only butting heads with him about the girls a few times over the years. Mostly, over Vanessa. Your mother was always a daddy's girl, hardly gave him any trouble at all."
I warmed at the thought. "I remember how she liked to dress me up before we came over to visit. She said Papa thought I was a perfect little gentleman."
Gran nodded. "She did everything she could to please her daddy. All her life, she was that way. When your Papa got sick, he thought about that a lot. He regretted a lot of things in the end." She pulled back to look at me. "Not long before he died, he told me that he thought he'd made a mistake with our girls. Said he should have let them choose their lives according to what they wanted instead of going by what he expected. He was convinced Rebecca stayed with your father for so long because she thought her daddy wouldn't approve of her leaving. He blamed himself for not letting her know he'd love her no matter what."
"Sounds like we all found a reason to blame ourselves," I told her.
"Yeah, looks like we did." She patted my stomach fondly. "That's why I act the way I do. I promised your grandfather that I'd break the damn rules, that I'd have fun and make mistakes without giving a damn what anyone thinks. I do it for him. And I do it for Rebecca because she never got the chance. And because honoring their memory is so much better than dwelling on their absence."
I kissed the top of her head and smiled. "Did I ever tell you mom's vision of my future?"
"No, but I'd love to hear it."
"She saw me making a life here. Getting married under the willow, watching my children swing out over the lake on a tire swing, growing old here with the love of my life." I sighed, a hollow feeling in my chest. "I'm not sure I'll be able to make all that happen, but it would have been a good way to honor her memory. Better than closing myself off and feeling guilty all my life."
She slapped my stomach, making me cringe. "You better be done with that shit, boy. I'm sick to death of watching you wallow. You can make every damn bit of that happen if you get off your duff and go after it." She stepped in front of me, poking a bony finger in my chest. "Ali loves you, stupid. That's not something that just goes away because of one argument. She may not want to love you right now, and you might have to eat a lot of crow, but you can make her remember why loving you is worthwhile. Because it is, Clay. Even when you're being a dumbass, you're worth the trouble. But you'll never make her realize that unless you believe it too."
&nb
sp; I cupped her wrinkled cheeks in my hands and smiled down at her. "Thank you, Gran. For taking me in all those years ago, for putting up with me when I was an angry teenage jerk, and most of all for knowing exactly when I need a swift kick in the ass to get me straight. I love you, Grandma."
She kissed my cheek and blinked back tears. "I know you do, baby boy. I've always known. And I love you, too." She threaded her arm through mine, turning us toward the shore. "Now walk an old lady to her vehicle on your way out. There's someone else you need to say those words to tonight, and it's time you got to it."
We made our way to the grass, stopping under the willow to look back at the water, the sunlight almost gone, and the moon already high in the sky. I was guiding her from under the branches, worried she would trip on a root, when she muttered, "Well, I'll be damned. That girl is full of surprises."
I'd been looking down to assure Gran's safe passage, but her words drew my head up. I stopped so abruptly that poor Gran was snatched back a step. She turned to me with a huff and said something I didn't hear. The entirety of my awareness was focused on the figure standing at the edge of the clearing.
Ali.
I SQUINTED TO make out the outline of the woman I loved in the fading light. I couldn't believe she was really here, that she was willing to even look at me much less seek me out. My chest tightened at the sight of her, and the bottom fell out of my stomach when I realized she'd heard every word Gran and I had said.
I supposed that made us even for me listening in on her conversation with Keith at the gala.
I was torn between running to her and fucking crawling. I'd do whatever it took to win her back, pride be damned.
More muttering came from beside me and I impatiently shushed Gran, who huffed at me in response but said nothing more as we made our way to where she stood. When we were a few yards away, Gran pulled away from me and held her arms out to Ali saying, "Hey, baby girl. I'm so glad to see you." She wrapped Ali in a tight embrace.
