by Jen Doyle
There was a small round table in the corner of the office. Deke and Lola had essentially grown up here, and it was where they’d have their family dinners more often than not. Where, someday, Deke could have dinners with those babies of his, too, although the thought of that made Fitz a little sad.
The table was cozy. Fitz had actually loved it when she got to join in because it had reminded her of her own home. It helped now as Mama Gin sat down in one of the chairs and pulled out the other and gestured for Fitz to sit in it. But it wasn’t until Deke sat down in the chair next to her, ignoring completely the two other people in the room and murmuring, “Are you okay?” that she truly felt grounded.
She still had no idea what she wanted their relationship to be—was still mostly sure she didn’t want one. Yet the way he pulled his chair in close to hers, let his legs fall to either side, caging her in almost, while at the same time not getting so close as to make her feel trapped almost made her cry in gratitude. When his hand went to the back of her chair she almost leaned into it, in fact, wanting even just a few seconds of his touch.
That wasn’t... It shouldn’t...
She pulled away abruptly when Mr. Deacon cleared his throat. “Uh... Max, maybe we should let Gin and Angelica talk.”
But she didn’t want Deke to go. For as strange as it felt to be talking about her dad to Mama Gin, Deke had been right. This was her father and there were things she wanted to know. It also did occur to her that if she could, say, deal with Peggy freaking Miller on a daily basis, then she could certainly talk about her dad to the woman who had taken over the job of raising her. Especially if the woman in question had brought it up in the first place.
Plus, it wasn’t like Mama Gin could unadopt her now, right?
Still, Mama Gin and Mr. Deacon went back a long ways. Having a buffer wouldn’t hurt. Fitz smiled. “I’d actually love it if you both stayed.”
As she sat back in her chair she realized Mama Gin seemed almost as uncomfortable as she felt. Mama Gin, the most confident, accomplished, amazing woman Fitz knew, seemed unsure. It was beyond reassuring.
With a glance at Mr. Deacon, Mama Gin started by leaning forward and putting a hand on Fitz’s knee. “Before I say anything else, I need you to know that I love you.”
Tears came to Fitz’s eyes before she could stop them.
Dorie said stuff like that all the time. Fitz figured it was one of those big Italian family things. “Love you,” as if it was as easy as uttering those two words. In Fitz’s experience, it was a much more elusive concept. She’d loved her parents, no doubt about that. She knew what she felt for her family and friends was love, even though she’d fought it for the longest of times, but it wasn’t something she could come out and easily say. Nate was the only person she ever said it to regularly, and that was only because he’d said it first—and had gone on saying it until she’d responded in kind, once she’d finally realized he wasn’t going away. Except for his two-year interlude with Courtney, but she’d forgiven him for that.
Mostly.
She’d never said it to Mama Gin, though. To the woman who had been betrayed by Fitz’s father and mother. It had taken Fitz years to even say her adoptive mother’s name, and that was only because she’d overheard Deke say it. If he could call the woman “Mama Gin,” then she could too. After all, it wasn’t like she’d gone and overstepped her bounds by coming out and calling her “Mom.” And it would have been safe enough to say even if her own mother had still been alive.
But, no, Fitz had never told Mama Gin that she loved her, and she’d never expected to hear the words in the first place. She couldn’t quite say them back, but that didn’t seem to bother anyone.
Instead, Mama Gin said, “Your father—”
The tears came back and overflowed immediately. Fitz found herself leaning forward, squeezing her eyes shut as words she’d never allowed herself to say poured out of her. “I loved him so much. I know I shouldn’t say that, not after what he did, but I loved him. I still do. My mom, too.”
“Oh, honey,” Mama Gin said, grabbing onto Fitz’s hands. “I loved him, too. He was a good man. He deserved a better life than he had. I wish he could have seen that sooner. And I’m so happy he had you in it.”
A sob erupted from somewhere deep inside Fitz. She couldn’t hold it back. Not after all this time. Not anymore.
“Fitz... Angelica...” It even seemed like Mama Gin was crying a little, although Fitz couldn’t open her eyes enough to see. Instead she turned her head to Deke, knowing he’d be right there.
“Angel,” he whispered, stroking her hair and closing his arms around her. “Hear her out, okay?”
It took a few minutes before Fitz could get her emotions under control, but she was finally able to gulp in a breath of air. “You don’t mind talking about him?”
“Oh, honey,” Mama Gin answered, clasping Fitz’s hands extra tight. Leaning in close, she smiled as she brushed a strand of hair away from Fitz’s face. “I’m so sorry you thought you couldn’t. I never—”
“It’s okay,” Fitz answered, not wanting Mama Gin to take on that burden, too. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault. At first Fitz had refused to speak of him because she’d been so angry at what he’d done. Horrified he’d left his family behind; ashamed to admit she’d wondered if he eventually would have done it to her, too.
Once Mama Gin had taken her in, it felt like talking about him would be yet another betrayal no matter what her therapists said. How could she talk about the man to the family he’d left behind? Her friends were Nate’s friends. Even Lola wasn’t Fitz’s to claim; she’d always be Jules’s friend first.
Her father had caused so much harm to so many people she loved, that at first she’d tried to box him out, keeping all her memories locked up and stashed away. It was only in recent years she’d allowed herself to acknowledge him during her Saturday visits, and that had come about because it was really pretty ridiculous to sit and talk to one half of a gravestone but not the other.
But now... “Can you tell me about him?”
This time when Mama Gin smiled there was no sadness in her eyes. Instead she let go of Fitz’s hands, sat back in her own seat and glanced over at Mr. Deacon before looking back at Fitz. “He had this razor-sharp wit.”
Fitz smiled at that, even as more tears streamed down her face. “I remember.”
“He cheated at cards,” Mr. Deacon said, relaxing back into his chair, chuckling as he and Mama Gin shared another glance.
“Could talk his way out of anything,” Mama Gin added. “Even after getting caught, literally, with an ace up his sleeve.” Her cheeks turned a bit pink. “And he was sooooo good-looking.”
Mr. Deacon rolled his eyes, making a big show of it as he sat forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the table. “Hell, he could cheat at cards, steal your girl right out of your arms and still walk away and be your best friend.”
An actual twinkle in her eye, Mama Gin slapped Mr. Deacon on the arm. “That’s only because you stole his girl that very same night.” To Deke, she said, “You know that’s how your parents met, right? That your dad and I decided to set our roommates up with each other?”
With a laugh, Mr. Deacon said, “Didn’t quite work out that way.”
And the stories went on from there. It was over dinner that Fitz—and Deke, apparently—learned Mama Gin and Mr. Deacon had been high school sweethearts, thinking they were on the road to marriage, even, when they’d met each other’s college roommates and everything had changed. For the better, they both seemed to agree despite what Fitz’s dad had done.
An hour later, as the food was being cleared away, Fitz said to Mr. Deacon, “I had no idea you were friends with him first.” It was frightening, in fact, how much she didn’t know.
But even with that thought running through her head, she was entire
ly unprepared for Mr. Deacon to say, “I met your mother once.”
“You did?”
Fitz was so surprised it took her a moment to realize her mouth was hanging open and that she hadn’t been the one to ask the question. It was Deke.
When Mama Gin nodded, Mr. Deacon went on to say, “I was up in Ames for something. Walked into a coffee shop and practically ran right into your dad. There was a woman behind the counter, and he was arguing with her in a way that seemed over the top when it came to someone getting your order wrong, you know?”
He gave a laugh so rueful, Fitz almost started crying just from the sound of it.
“I even made some joke about him not needing to get so worked up over a cup of coffee. But he and Gin were in a tough place, and with Nate and the girls being so young...” He shrugged. “I passed it off as stress over how crazy it was for him at home.” Then Mr. Deacon lifted his gaze. His eyes going soft, he looked directly at Fitz. “You look exactly like her.”
This time, Fitz was aware the strangled gasp had come from her. Her whole body trembled and she had to wrap her arms around herself to keep from falling off the chair.
She had no pictures of her mother, either, and no family from her mother’s side. No one else in the world who had ever been able to say those words to her. “I do?”
Even Mr. Deacon, who Fitz had always thought of as Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, Senior, seemed like he might cry. “It hit me the day the boys graduated from college,” he said. “I saw you standing next to Nate. He looked so much like your dad and you looked like...her. I realized that’s who he’d been talking to that day. She was pregnant and...” His voice trailed off as he took another moment to glance at Mama Gin. “It was still another year or two before he left, but I think it may have been the day he found out about you.”
Mama Gin, who as far as Fitz was concerned had every right to put an end to this conversation, leaned forward and put her hand over Mr. Deacon’s. Grimly smiling, she said, “Hank has always had this ridiculous notion that he could have saved my marriage if only he’d said something.”
With a glare, Mr. Deacon responded, “I knew that man like a brother.” Then he pulled his hand out from under Mama Gin’s and looked away. “At least I thought I did.”
Although she couldn’t believe she was saying the words, Fitz went ahead and asked, “Why do you think he left? How could he...?” Unable to finish the thought, she shook her head. They all got the idea.
Sure enough, Mr. Deacon’s eyes went sad and he looked down at the table for a minute before speaking. “I wish I could answer that. I really do.” Leaning forward, he looked at Fitz. “I tried for years to find someone who could tell me what it was that made him just...go.” He glanced at Mama Gin again. “I used to wonder if it was something with his parents. He had a bastard of a father. Meanest son of a bitch I ever met. And his mom wasn’t much better. The day they dropped him off at college was the last time they ever spoke, as far as I knew. Not sure if he was saddened by it, or just relieved. He never did say.”
Dredging up a memory she hadn’t even been aware she had, Fitz said, “They came to our house.” The icy tension at the dinner table that night came back, too, as did the fight between her parents after the people she’d been introduced to as her grandparents had left. “Once.”
The odd part, though, was that she was pretty sure he’d stopped drinking almost immediately afterward. He’d disappeared for a few days, days during which her mother hadn’t stopped crying. But things started changing once he got back. He was around the house more, for one thing. He smiled, for another. He hadn’t smiled as much before that.
Silence descended, and Fitz knew they were waiting for her to say something. But she was already overwhelmed—with memories, with emotion... The second she opened her mouth she knew she’d start crying again. Yet she so desperately wanted to know if they knew...
“Why was he on his way out here that night?” Deke asked.
Ordinarily, him being so in tune with her would have freaked her out immensely. Tonight, though, she was just grateful.
Mama Gin and Mr. Deacon glanced at each other again. And again, Mr. Deacon was the one who spoke. “We don’t know, son. Not for sure. But I know the man he was. And I have to believe that once he got that demon off his back, he’d do the right thing.” Then Mr. Deacon reached forward and took Fitz’s hand in his. It was so shocking she didn’t even have the chance to pull back before he squeezed tight. “From the day we met you we knew you’d been raised right. Your mom had a hand in that, but I firmly believe your dad did, too. I’d say it was a good bet there was a reason they were on their way here that night. That she’d decided to support him, no matter how hard that road would be to travel.”
The tears came back with a vengeance. Fitz had been so angry for so long, and had wasted so many years keeping so much inside that it had crippled her. She knew parts of her were broken. She just didn’t know if she’d ever be able to fix them. And she hated that because of those jagged pieces, she hadn’t had even an ounce of the amount of faith in her parents that the people who should have hated them the most did.
Now it was Mama Gin’s turn to reach out. Scooting closer, she said, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. And don’t get me wrong, a good four or five years of that time was full of piss and brimstone. But the last conversation he and I ever had was about him having some things to deal with and if he ever did, I’d welcome him back with open arms no matter what else stood between us.” She smiled. “I’ve come to choose to believe he maybe decided to take me up on that.”
“But...” Oh, God, there were so many things running through Fitz’s head and her heart. “Nate and Jules and Ella...” Fitz had no idea how they would have handled even the idea of that.
From the grim and stubborn look on Mama Gin’s face, it was clear any discussions that may have been had hadn’t gone over well. “What matters most to me,” Mama Gin said in her my-word-is-law voice, “is that you know you belong to us.” Then she leaned forward and took Fitz’s hand again. “From the moment I saw you, I knew you were a piece of me—of my family—I didn’t even know had been missing.”
It was nearly too much to process. Fitz didn’t even know what she would have asked if she were capable of speaking. It was as if Mama Gin had said every single word Fitz had ever hoped to hear but Fitz was too overwhelmed to take any of it in.
Mr. Deacon read Fitz’s silence as disbelief, it seemed. “Never seen anyone fight for something as hard as Gin fought for you.”
And, well, maybe she hadn’t believed it entirely. Her head swung over and she met Mr. Deacon’s gaze. “What?”
“Tooth and nail,” he said. “There were people who thought it was madness. But she used whatever it took to get those doors open and then wouldn’t let them close until she’d gotten you.”
Mama Gin didn’t deny it. She smiled at Fitz’s shock. “The Iowa Dream made us a lot of friends. I wasn’t above asking for help.” Then she let go of Fitz’s hand and patted her knee. “I think maybe this was enough for one night.” Then she gave Fitz a quick hug, releasing her almost immediately as if she were fully aware too much would put Fitz over the edge. “But this conversation is only beginning. Okay?” she said gently, smiling when Fitz nodded. Then Mama Gin briskly stood up. “Buy me a drink, Hank?”
Taking his cue, Mr. Deacon stood up as well. After a lingering look at Deke, Mr. Deacon gave a nod as well. Then they were both gone.
“Well...” Deke said, as the door closed behind them.
Yes, Fitz thought. Well.
Leaning back against him, she closed her eyes. “Did you have something to do with that conversation?”
He was quiet for a minute before saying, “That depends on how angry you’d be at me if I had.”
Furious was what her answer should have been. But the only thing running th
rough her head was that maybe they could figure out a way to make things work. Maybe she could find a way to keep coming back to him after she moved out of Inspiration. But right now she was too drained to think about it. So instead she burrowed her head into the crook between his arm and chest. “Can you just hold me for a little while?” she asked, too tired out to care about any mixed messages she happened to be sending.
He didn’t seem to mind. Tucking her up against him, he settled back in his seat. “For as long as you need.”
Since right now she was thinking she could maybe make do with forever, she thought it was wise to keep her mouth shut. But, yes. Forever would do.
Chapter Twenty-One
He’d wanted to take her home with him that night. Keep watch over her to make sure she was okay; hold her in case she wasn’t. But she’d insisted she was fine and wouldn’t even let him drive her back to Lola’s. And even if it was his bar he couldn’t exactly take off when he wanted to. So he’d had to let her go. Then she’d made herself scarce for the next few days, and Deke was pretty sure if one more person had said to him that they wished they could have a job like his and just shoot the shit all day, he might have hauled off and hit them.
For as much as her episodes of avoiding him had been pissing him off, however, he sensed there was something different about it this time. Or maybe he was coming to understand that maintaining some space was as necessary for her as taking in air. Since she let him get a little closer each time she came back to him, he was starting to think maybe it wasn’t the worst thing. But he also realized he had a major problem on his hands: he missed her. He thought about her constantly. It wasn’t just that he had absolutely no interest in seeking anyone else out—he actually wanted her more with every passing moment despite any indication from her that she felt the same way. Tonight was going to be flat-out torture since it was poker night and they’d be surrounded by the people who knew them best in the world.
