The instant the word was out of her mouth, his eyes fell, turning to a look of defeat before his shoulders slumped and he stepped aside, door opening up to a simple entryway beyond. “I knew this day would come.”
“Oh my God,” Augusta Belle murmured, stepping into the entry to see a framed school photo of a little boy, his smile subtle, eyes twinkling with mischief, and a spray of freckles across his cheeks.
He was gorgeous.
“Is this him?” she asked, fingertips hovering just above the glass of the photo, tears welling in her eyes.
The man nodded. “Jack Christopher. He’s at school now, but…” His eyes were trained on mine. “Maybe later we could arrange a meeting?”
“A meeting?” my girl whispered.
The guy shrugged. “Jack’s been askin’ about his birth parents for a while. We just didn’t have a way of finding anything out about…” He paused, watching Augusta Belle as she moved down the hallway, devouring more photos of the little boy she’d loved and lost. “Met the kid’s grandpa the night we picked up Jack. We asked him for anything he could tell us about the family, but he was so mum. Left us with an address to send updates, and we did, a few times, but never heard back. Figured the family wanted to move on…”
Augusta Belle’s silent tears left trails of salt down her cheeks as she lingered at the same photo she’d found in her dad’s attic—same chubby thighs and bright smile, only a larger version. “He looked like a happy baby.”
“I’m sorry, guess I should introduce myself. I’m Calvin Hill.” He thrust a hand out to me, and I shook it. “Jack was such a happy baby. We tried for so long to have a baby, and then when he came along…” He glanced at Augusta Belle then back to me. “Well, he was so much more than we ever could have dreamed for.” He swallowed, eyes landing on a family photo of the three of them, Jack a few years younger than he was now, smiling gleefully in his mother’s arms. “Losing his mom was hard on him. He’s struggled at school, just hasn’t been quite the same. I’ve got some family that helps out when they can, but nothing can replace a mother’s love.” He halted, as if he’d said the wrong thing, when Augusta Belle’s gaze trained on him.
“I can’t believe it was so easy. That all this time, he was right here…” She covered her face, and I pulled her into my arms, rubbing her back and trying to soothe away the long-buried ache.
“We offered, well, welcomed your dad and the whole family to come down and get to know Jack Christopher. Sacred Heart offered a closed adoption, but we were so happy that any baby was…available at all… Well, we woulda taken anything, I think.”
Her eyes watered as she looked up at the man. “That night… You said my dad was there?”
He nodded. “We picked Jack up at Sacred Heart when he was three days old. Your father is the one who passed him into my arms.”
“That’s impossible. It must have been someone else. Dad never came to see me, never even mentioned the pregnancy. No one talked to me while I was there…”
The old guy shrugged. “Just a second.” He held up a finger then disappeared into a hall closet, pulling out a folder of discolored papers. “I have something that may clear this up. Ah, there it is.” He pulled out a Polaroid, handing it to me. And sure enough, there stood Augusta Belle’s father, an infant in his arms wrapped in a little blue blanket, a tortured look in his eyes.
Jesus. Augusta Belle didn’t even grab for the picture, just stared at it, eyes roaming over every inch before she buried her head in my arm and let out a fresh batch of tears.
“That’s him.” I handed the photo back.
“And you’re the, ah, biological father?” he asked cautiously.
I nodded, holding back my own emotion.
I’d missed out on so much—the baseball games, the first day of school, swimming lessons, first steps, and giggles.
“Augusta, well, she’s been dealing with a lot of the things that happened while she was at that place. She was taken against her will, as you can imagine. But beyond that, it seems…well, that school didn’t have her sign anything about adopting her baby. She thought she was going to take him home to Tennessee and raise him herself…”
The man’s eyes widened. “But I’ve got the paperwork right here, clearly has the signature of the mother listed.” He pulled out another piece of paper, my eyes scanning it for Augusta Bell’s flowery signature.
It was there, all right, but it certainly wasn’t hers.
In fact, it looked like the signature of a sixty-year-old woman, controlled and precise. Augusta Belle’s had always been all large loops and youthful feeling.
“You didn’t sign that, did you, Augusta?” the older man finally asked, her eyes clear enough to see the signature that so obviously wasn’t hers on Jack Christopher’s birth certificate.
“No.”
He nodded, pushing a hand into his hair. “Look, I won’t lie and say things since my wife passed have been great. Jack and I have had a lot of painful moments, but putting him through a legal battle now—”
“Oh my God, no. I would never.” She was clutching at the stranger’s hand now, the very stranger who’d raised our son. “We don’t want to change his life at all. I guess I just needed… I guess I just needed to know that he was all right, taken care of, loved.” She looked around the house, focusing on the pictures mostly. “And he is. I can tell he’s gotten so much more here with you than I ever could have given him—”
“That’s not true.” Jack’s dad looked from me to her. “Maybe at one time, we had it all. But I can’t raise Jack alone and do it well.” He pressed his lips together, assessing his next words. “He needs a mother, and I just can’t be that for him.” He looked up at me. “Don’t know how long you planned on stayin’ in town for, but while you’re here, I’d love if you could spend time with him. I think he would love it. He’s such a brilliant little guy, so advanced and beyond his age, asking the questions he’s always asked. I think…I think talking to you would help him.”
Augusta Belle’s hand clutched at mine, hope springing into her eyes for the first time since we’d walked up. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded, setting the folder down on the table. “He won’t be off the bus for a few hours yet. Whaddya say we sit down and chat a little more?”
She nodded, kicking off her shoes and following him down the long hallway before I could even think twice.
I followed suit, kicking off my own dirty boots and taking off down the tile hallway after them, visions of my boy’s beautiful face wallpapering every surface as I went.
Augusta Belle had found our boy.
The son we hadn’t even realized we had.
Evidence of the night that’d changed both of us.
The night we created him.
TWENTY-NINE
Augusta
My heart clenched, Jack and Fallon walking side by side down the length of the yard, heads tilted to the side in just the same way. “They’re so much alike.”
Jack’s dad, Calvin, as he’d insisted we call him, nodded once, quiet smile playing on his lips. “They do. Answers a lot of questions. Like why Jack has such an ear for music, for one.”
“Got that honestly,” I said, heart finally easing into its place inside my own chest as I watched the son who was stolen from me walk next to the man who’d changed my life.
Saved my life.
Both of them had, in different ways.
I was still digesting the idea that my father had known my son, held him if even for a few brief moments.
I had to bite back the resentment. But, in other ways, I think it made sense why he kept the things he kept. Maybe he thought he’d tell me someday how everything had happened.
Or maybe he even felt some remorse.
I had to believe he did, the mystery of why he’d left Fallon our family house not quite so startling.
I had to believe that my dad regretted how so many things were handled. Maybe he just didn’t have the words to e
xpress that regret.
How easy was it, after all, to say sorry for stealing someone’s life?
I wiped emotional tears from my eyelashes as Fallon and Jack paused at the edge of the yard, Fallon pointing up into the sky as a jet tracked across the puffy white clouds.
“We’d love it if you’d stay for dinner,” Calvin said, standing up from his place in the lounge chair and hovering at the French doors separating us from the large kitchen.
I swallowed the ball of emotion in my throat and turned, eyes glimmering up at this man I’d only just met. “Yes, we would love that. Thank you so much. I can’t even begin to express what you’ve given me today.” Emotion crawled out of my throat, threatening to choke my words, but I pushed on. “You’ve given me life.”
His soft smile turned up, a gentle nod before he pinched his own tears away. “I think you came just in time, Augusta. We need you more than you know.”
I had to contain myself then, swallowing and covering my eyes as I held it together, not wanting to present the image of a crying lunatic on the very first day I met my son and his family for the first time.
I turned, eyes focusing back on my boys, now walking back slowly, lost in conversation as Jack began asking Fallon every question under the sun about playing guitar, writing songs, singing onstage, and making music.
“I’ll teach ya, if you’d like.” Fallon bent down to his level, one broad, tattooed hand resting on his little shoulder.
I wanted a snapshot of this movement, wanted to capture it in my mind and relive it a thousand times over, relishing in the happiness.
“I would love that.” Jack’s toothy grin stole my heart.
I stepped up to their tight little circle, bending to find myself at Jack’s level, his warm bronze eyes smiling back at me. “If it’s okay with you, we’re gonna stay for dinner.”
Jack nodded fiercely, blond locks of hair falling across his forehead. On instinct, I reached out, pushing it behind his ear before catching myself.
The sweet little boy was smiling back at me, innocent wonder as he took in everything.
This morning, he’d gone to school with a single dad. This afternoon, he came home to Fallon and me.
While it felt confusing and amazing to Fallon and me, Jack seemed to take it all in stride, his grin popping when his dad told him exactly who we were. He first asked where we lived, and then a cascade of questions had ensued as he’d sat riveted at the kitchen table.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s go help your dad make dinner.” Fallon patted our son on the back.
Jack scrunched up his face. “Dad doesn’t make dinner. He’ll probably just order pizza.”
I raised an eyebrow, grinning as I found one more way I could be of use. “Well, let’s change that. We can make dinner, can’t we? What are you in the mood for?”
“Really?” Jack ran up the steps of the porch, waiting for us at the door. “Let’s make cake!”
He launched into the kitchen, circling his arms around his dad’s leg and announcing that I’d promised him we were makin’ cake. “How ’bout we save that for after we make dinner?”
Calvin laughed, waving me off. “I’ll just order in. Don’t wanna waste your time.”
“It’s not a waste of time at all.” I rubbed at Jack’s back, savoring even the tiniest touch. “I’d love to make dinner for you, and I’d love it even more if you helped me, Jack.”
He nodded, happy to help, before sliding across the floor in his socks to snag a barstool, then pushing it back across the floor to prop next to the stove. “I’m ready to chef.”
Fallon stifled a laugh, my own smile stretching the boundaries of my face.
My heart was on fire.
Just this little boy’s existence gave me a reason to breathe. To have the chance to know him, to be in his life, was another gift entirely.
I didn’t know how long Jack’s dad would let Fallon and me get to know Jack, but for as long as he was willing, I would take it.
By the time Fallon and I left that night, our bellies were full of fried chicken and chocolate cake and sweet tea.
“He looks just like you,” Fallon murmured once we’d slid into the cab of his truck.
“But the way he acts, his mannerisms, they’re all you.” My grin split my face, a tiny shriek finally vibrating from my throat. I clutched both of Fallon’s hands in mine, wiggling in my spot at his side, heart threatening to leap right out of my chest and fly away from me.
“He’s a great kid.”
“With such a great life,” I agreed, eyes turning up to the big house we’d just spent the better part of eight hours in.
“And Calvin is nice,” Fallon commented, voice lowering, mind losing itself in thoughts he wasn’t going to share.
I fell silent, the engine of the truck starting up before Fallon eased away from the house that’d held all my hopes and dreams for so long. Moonlight glinted off the glittery Elvis keychain, the only thing I could bear to focus on as I thought about the next time I might see our son, how many more firsts I would miss.
A few sad and stubborn tears leaked out of my eyes before I halted them, refusing to dwell on the time I’d lost, trying my damnedest to live in this moment.
I cuddled a little closer to Fallon, his ability to be attuned to me so sharp that his hand fell on my leg on instinct, giving me a few warm and reassuring squeezes before settling there.
Something about being beside him, his big body eating up the space around me, making me feel so small and fragile in comparison ensured I felt safe, at home, protected, and loved.
Fallon had done nothing but love all the dark and scary parts of me from the beginning.
Even then, there’d been so much I was running away from, so much I was searching for, an aimless soul looking for an anchor.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I whispered, gratitude seeping through my body. “I never could have faced any of this without you. You were always the other piece of my past, the missing part I needed to put all of this together.”
“I’ll be at your side till the day I take my last breath, Augusta Belle. Whether you’re ready for it or not.”
I tucked in a little closer to the man who had given me so much life, every moment I was with him more inspiring, more fulfilled.
“I’m ready for more than you think I am.”
THIRTY
Fallon
“So lemme get this straight. You actually won awards…for swimming?” Jack’s wide cognac eyes grew as if the notion were downright unbelievable, beach towel under one arm as we walked the dirt path to Landry’s only swimming hole.
“Bet your life, she did,” I chimed in, winking at Augusta Belle.
We’d been in town for over two weeks now, the quarters at Landry’s finest roadside motel becomin’ a little cramped. But all the quality time with Jack well worth the squeeze.
And Augusta.
Every day since the one we’d had our reckoning under the magnolia trees somewhere between here and Jackson had been as damn near close to perfect as any I’d had. Augusta just had that way of shakin’ up things, enough adventure to keep you on your toes and pushin’ for just a little more.
Augusta was my more.
Always had been.
I’d finally just gotten around to showin’ her that, every moment I had with her.
And now we were blessed with Jack, the wildly hilarious, unbelievably sarcastic eight-year-old who seemed to be adjusting to his new extended family shockingly well.
Guess somethin’ about the way Augusta and I came together all those years ago didn’t surprise me that we’d created life. It’d felt like the earth had flipped upside down and inside out, my world never the same again.
The night we met like two stars, combustin’ together in a perfect, beautiful storm not far from the banks of the Whiskey River.
“You wanna see a pro in action?” Augusta Belle’s sweet twang pulled me from my memories.
“Bring it!” Jack c
alled, dropping his towel as soon as the pathway opened up and running as fast as his legs could carry him to the edge of the river. He turned, giving us each a wave before jumping off the small ledge, landing in an almost belly flop, and then coming up for air, radiant grin on his face.
We all erupted into laughter, Augusta already pulling her shirt over her head and discarding it at my feet, rebel twinkle in her eyes. She climbed up the taller slab of stone, Jack’s eyes the size of dinner plates as he watched her from water level.
A teenager launched himself headlong over the cliff and landed in a slow-moving whirlpool of river water below.
I gave Augusta two thumbs up when she reached the top of the stone, pulling her hair back into a ponytail before throwing both of us one last wave and an air kiss.
I sucked in a breath, the familiar sense of knots twisting in my stomach when she backed away from the edge, then sprinted on angel’s wings across the hard stone, launching headfirst over the side and arching like a swan, fingertips reaching above her head as she free-fell.
Jack watched, eyes bigger than the tires on my truck when Augusta cut through the water, disappearing under the current. We both waited, his eyes on the spot she’d vanished, mine on him.
My beautiful boy.
The last week ’Jack had been in my life, he’d brought more sunshine than I knew I was missin’, the thought of his absence becomin’ harder to take.
I still didn’t know what was next for Augusta Belle and me; we hadn’t talked about it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about things, but watchin’ her be a mom to Jack was like watchin’ a flower bloom after the first spring rain.
I couldn’t take her away from that, but what opportunities Landry had for me I wasn’t sure.
The thought of livin’ far away from this kid left a dark cloud hangin’ over my head, but I didn’t know if it was darker than the idea of stayin’ in Landry either.
I had some cash stashed, but I had no plans for retiring anytime soon.
Whiskey Girl Page 15
