The Truth About Love

by Sheila Athens

  Like the people who’d just left, he knew how it felt to leave a loved one here. He’d done that same thing, years ago, as a scared little boy not sure of where he’d live.

  He’d felt different as a teen, when he’d come here on his own, once he was old enough to drive and had access to a car. By then he’d realized the depths of his father’s disinterest in raising a child. He’d learned to recognize the looks of pity from his classmates. And that hard lump of anger in his gut had started to grow.

  Come to think of it, since the funeral, he’d never come here with anyone else. Yes, that reporter had snapped pictures of him visiting Mama’s grave on her birthday his senior year in high school. That was before he’d learned what kind of damage the media could do. When he’d been a sought-after high school recruit, but still an ignorant kid. But it wasn’t like he’d brought the reporter here with him. No, he’d never shared this place with anyone. He’d never felt like anyone would understand what he felt when he was here.

  But now there was Gina. And the hard lump of anger in his gut had started to chip away on the edges.

  He reached Mama’s grave and ran his fingers over the top of the humble marker. It felt hot in the Florida sun. He traced the first letter of her name with his finger, remembering how proud he’d been when he’d first learned to write both their names.

  What would his mother have thought of everything that had happened the last couple of months? She’d have been angry, for sure, that Cyrus Alexander had spent so many years in prison. But she would have forgiven Landon for what he’d done to help send Cyrus there. She was that kind of woman. Kind. Forgiving. Loving.

  So if she could forgive Landon for what he’d done to Cyrus, could he forgive himself? He tossed the thought around in his head like a couple of kids playing catch. He’d have to think about that one awhile.

  She had never let him understand, when she was alive, that his father could have helped support them instead of ignoring his obligation to pay child support. That they didn’t have to live in squalor in the back of the country store. She’d protected him from that knowledge as fiercely as a mother bear protects her young.

  If his mother could muscle through life—loving and determined and kind as she was—while knowing that Martin had tossed them away, could Landon do the same? Could he, like his mother, accept what life had handed him and go on without the big lump of anger in his gut?

  He thought about Gina and how she’d started him down the path of looking at things differently. How she’d forced him to examine the question that had lurked in his subconscious for years: Did he stay in Tallahassee waiting for his father’s love? Yes, he’d been mad as hell when she made him face the truth. But after a few days of thinking about it, he knew she was right. He did need to move on with his life.

  A slight smile crept across his face as he looked at the tombstone. “You would like her, Mama,” he said out loud.

  The breeze, almost nonexistent in this part of Florida in the summer, kicked up, tousling his hair, just as his mother had done when he was a kid. Like a message from her, it cooled his scalp and comforted him.

  Something shifted in the world. Or maybe it was in his heart. Either way, it felt like his mother was releasing him. Like she’d watched him with Gina and she approved. There was now another woman to care for him. Another woman for him to love. Another woman who would be the most important person in his life. He looked around at the trees, thickly draped with Spanish moss, and wondered if he’d ever felt so much at peace as he did right now, in this place. He took a deep, contented breath and knew that the smell of confederate jasmine would always be the scent of peace for him.

  But what would his mother think of his relationship with Martin? Would she want him to keep fighting for his father’s love? Had she accepted the fact that Martin wasn’t ever going to be there for her or the child they’d created together? She had to have accepted that fact. Otherwise, wouldn’t Landon have picked up on her bitterness? She was the kindest, most loving person he knew. She couldn’t have faked that.

  He drew in a deep breath, the smell of the jasmine filling his lungs, then exhaled. If his mother had accepted the way his father had treated them, then maybe he could, too.

  He turned as another car rumbled down the gravel drive into the cemetery. He would have liked to have spent more time here with her, but he didn’t want anyone to see him. He knew he stood out. Not many men were his size.

  He rushed toward his truck and got in, hoping the newcomers didn’t recognize him. Maybe he’d come back again soon. Maybe he’d bring Gina.

  But for now, there was someone else in Pascaloosa County he needed to see.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Cyrus Alexander looked much older than Landon had expected, but then, he guessed prison could do that to a man.

  “Tim.” Landon nodded to the teen as he walked up the steps of their porch. His heart pounded, but he found some comfort in the fact that at least he’d met Tim before. Had thought maybe there was a connection between them.

  Landon stood tall. Of all the times he needed to take responsibility for his own actions, this was one of the most important. He held out his hand to the older man. “Mr. Alexander.” As often as he’d thought about this moment in recent days, he still wasn’t sure what he should say.

  Cyrus eyed him warily, but eventually stuck his hand out to meet Landon’s. It was rough and calloused. Landon wondered how he’d spent his time in prison. Lifting weights? Working a job?

  “I”—Landon cleared his throat—“I don’t know what to say.” His hands crossed over his heart—not a planned motion, but one that might at least show Cyrus how sincere he was. “I’m sorry, man. I know that’ll never be enough for what I did.” His gaze dropped to the weathered floorboards of the porch and his hands fell to his sides. There was nothing he could say that could make up for the time Cyrus had lost. “I’m sorry.”

  Cyrus was silent for several seconds. Tim shuffled his feet nervously. Landon looked up, wanting to see the expression on Cyrus’s face, but it told him nothing.

  Finally, Cyrus spoke. His Southern drawl was more pronounced—even for someone from Pascaloosa County—than Landon had expected. “I don’t think it’s your fault, son.”

  “But I testified—”

  Cyrus held his hand up. Landon immediately stilled.

  “I hold the police responsible.” Cyrus’s accent elongated each word. “And Maggie Buchanan. She’s the one who never told ’em her boyfriend was in town that weekend. She was more concerned with her Daddy not finding out”—his voice cracked—“than with an innocent man going to prison.”

  “We saw a picture of her boyfriend,” Tim said. “He looked just like the pictures we have from when Dad was that age.”

  Dad.

  Landon was glad Tim could say that word with his father standing right beside him. “I’m still so sorry.” Both of their lives would have been so much different . . .

  “You were nine years old.” Cyrus walked to the edge of the porch, his back to Landon and Tim. “What’s done is done.”

  Landon was grateful for Cyrus’s graciousness. This could have been a scene that was a helluva lot uglier than this one had been. “Can I loan you some money?” He didn’t want to insult the guy, but he’d been in prison for fifteen years. What kind of money could he make in there? “Until you get on your feet?” He’d sure as hell rather give any extra he had to Cyrus than invest it in one of his own father’s crazy schemes.

  Cyrus shook his head and turned to face Landon. “I appreciate what you done, coming by to see Tim and all. That means a lot.”

  “Tim has my cell number.” Landon motioned to the boy. “Please. Call me if I can ever help with anything. If you just want to talk . . . or yell at me or something.”

  “This is all so new.” Cyrus scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know what to do.
What to say. How to feel.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “For now, I just want to put that whole part of my life behind me.”

  “I understand.” Landon patted Tim on the shoulder. “I’ll always be there for you.” He looked at Cyrus as he headed to the stairs of the porch. “For both of you.”

  Cyrus gave a single nod in reply.

  Landon let out a gusty breath as he walked toward his truck. He knew how Cyrus felt. How there was no precedent here. No road map to tell him how to feel or what to think.

  All he knew was that he was glad he’d looked the guy in the eyes.

  Glad he’d said he was sorry.

  Glad that Tim had his father back.

  Gina followed her dad down the stairs of her apartment, lugging the last of the boxes they had to load into the back of his SUV.

  Her mother followed behind, carrying the pot of ivy she’d given Gina the first day she’d moved into her dorm freshman year. “You’re sure you don’t need to say good-bye to Landon before you leave town?”

  Gina tried to ignore the worried-mom look cast her way. “We’ve pretty much said everything we need to say to each other.”

  “Suzanne seemed to think there might be some”—her mom glanced at her dad—“loose ends between the two of you.”

  “Yeah, well. I don’t discuss my personal life with my boss.” Liar. “Isn’t that what you always told me, Daddy? Work is work and your personal life is personal?”

  Her father held his hands up. “I’m staying out of this one.”

  Gina rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “So I’ll leave first thing Saturday morning.” Her parents had made a trip down to take a carload of her belongings home.

  “You sure you’ll have room for the rest of your stuff?” her mom asked.

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “And you’ll get your oil changed before you leave?” Her mom’s voice pitched a little higher.

  “Dad . . .” Both she and her father knew it was a plea to get his wife to stop mothering her so much.

  Her mother took her hand. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, honey.”

  Oh, great. They were back to talking about Landon again. She didn’t want to talk about him. Not after she’d lain in bed every night this week thinking about their final conversation the other night after they’d made love. “I need to get going.” She motioned toward her car. “I told Suzanne I’d be in by ten.”

  Her mother hugged her as if she wouldn’t ever see her again.

  Her father walked around the car and hugged her, too. “You’ve done good work here, you know that?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” She would always be her father’s little girl.

  She waved as they exited the driveway and then got in her car to head to work. Though she’d been here only a couple of months, she was going to miss this place. Its sprawling live oaks and rolling hills would always be a part of her.

  She still needed to think of a way to thank Suzanne for the experiences she’d given her. And to tell her that she’d decided not to pursue a career in this line of work. She’d done a lot of thinking about what Landon had said. She’d always known that her guilt over sending Nick Varnadore to prison had colored everything she did, but until Landon, it had never seemed like it was wrong. It had been her penitence. Her payback to the world.

  At least until Landon had shown her that she needed to learn to forgive herself. That it couldn’t color every decision she made.

  The forgiveness would take a while, but at least she could make different choices, starting today. She’d always be grateful that Landon had changed that trajectory of her life.

  Suzanne’s Audi pulled into the small parking lot right in front of Gina’s SUV.

  “You’re getting here late,” Gina said as the two got out of their cars next to each other. Her boss was normally here by seven in the morning.

  “I was over at the prosecutor’s office.” Suzanne opened her car’s back door and took out the leather messenger bag. Gina wondered if the pistol was still in there.

  “They said they’re done with this.” Suzanne pulled a clear plastic bag from her satchel and held it out in front of her. “I think you’ll know what to do with it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Landon’s body thrummed with energy, like it knew he was about to have the two most important conversations of his life. First with his father. And then with Gina.

  But his father had arrived late, and now here was Gina, standing on his doorstep like a life preserver tossed to a drowning man. Chaos and emotion swirled inside his apartment, but there she was—the hurricane who’d become his safe haven, his rock—standing on his front porch, at precisely the time he’d invited her to be here. Tendrils of hair, typically swept back into a tidy ponytail, fringed her face. Her normally strong body seemed ready to collapse. He’d never seen her look so tired.

  “I’m so sorry about this,” he said as she stood on his doorstep. “I really want to talk to you. But it needs to be . . . after.” He motioned with his head to where his father stood behind him, inside his condo. “This needs to be a father/son thing. So can you come back? Maybe in five minutes?”

  She peered around him until she could see who was in the living room. Her eyebrows rose. “I’ve . . . got something to give you.” She held a clear plastic bag in her hand, but he couldn’t tell what was in it. “I was going to mail it from Nashville, but when you called me, I figured I’d bring it with me.” She paused, as if making sure she understood the situation inside his condo. “I can give it to you after you talk to your dad.”

  He knew she was the one person who might comprehend what was about to take place. Hell, she’d been a catalyst for it. And most of all, she’d said she loved him. Or at least she had loved him at one time. He wanted to believe that whole business about how people in love were there for each other.

  Because she looked like she needed him. And he sure as hell needed her.

  “You can come back in a few minutes?” He hoped she saw the pleading look in his eyes.

  She jabbed a thumb toward the street. “I’ll go get a Starbucks. You want anything?”

  He shook his head.

  “Bye, Mr. Vista.” She leaned to look around Landon. “Good to see you again.”

  Landon closed the door as soon as she’d gone and turned to face his father.

  “If you’re still not sleeping with her, you sure as hell ought to be.” Martin chuckled. “Cute thing like that comes to your condo, she’s looking for one thing.” His fist pumped the air in a crude gesture. “A smart man would give her exactly what she wants.”

  Landon took a deep breath. He was not going to let his dad change the subject. And the disgusting way he talked about Gina fueled his courage to go on with what he’d planned to say. He ran his fingers through his hair, not sure where to start.

  Finally, he decided to let everything inside him pour out without worrying about how manly he sounded or how needy he might appear. “I have waited my whole life”—he paused for a second, trying to stop the quavering in his voice—“for you to love me. For you to decide that a relationship with me was more important than whatever’s in the bottle you happen to be drinking from at the time. But you know what? I’m done.” He slashed his arm through the air. “I’m tired of waiting for that to happen.”

  “Is this all because of that damn Cyrus Alexander business? Why you still all over me when they know who done it now?”

  “We’re not talking about that here.”

  “Then what are we talking about?”

  Landon’s entire body shook with emotion. His whole life had been a series of events all headed toward this moment. And his father still didn’t get it. “We’re talking about me, Dad. The son who’s waited . . . for years . . . to hear you say that you loved me. That you cared about me. That you made sure my homework was done
and that I wore sunscreen in the summer and that when I looked up in the stands during a Little League, you were there.”

  “Didn’t your aunt and uncle do all those things?”

  “Some of them, yeah. Because they had to.”

  “So you had help with homework and sunscreen.” The nonchalant way his dad shrugged made Landon want to punch him. “Why’d you need me?”

  “Because it’s the little things that count, Dad.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s the little things that tell somebody . . . every day . . . that you love them.”

  “I know you think I should have been around more when you were a kid.” His dad sat on the couch. “But I wasn’t, okay? There ain’t nothin’ I can do about that now. Can we just see it for what it is, man-to-man?”

  Landon nodded. “I’ve been hanging around Tallahassee since I graduated, thinking maybe our relationship would change. Maybe we would talk about things, man-to-man. Telling myself I had to stay here, when there’s a whole world out there.” He swept his arm in a wide gesture. “I didn’t even look at other options, because deep down, I thought staying close would mean I would be here when you came around. When you showed up on my doorstep one day to tell me you wanted to be a part of my life.”

  Martin’s eyes narrowed. “It’s her, isn’t it? She wants you to move somewhere.”

  Landon gave a humorless laugh. “We haven’t even talked about that. I don’t know for sure that she even wants me. But at least she’s taught me . . .”

  “To dump your old man?”

  “She’s taught me what it’s like to be loved. What people do when they care about each other.” These were thoughts he’d never had before Gina came along. Words he might never say again. But then, leaving your dad required extraordinary measures, beyond the everyday. “For the first time since Mama died I feel . . . worth something.”

  Gina had come to town to help wrongly convicted prisoners, but she’d also helped Landon climb to freedom.