by Nora Flite
“Are you okay?” He asked, breaking into my thoughts.
Lifting my coffee mug, I shook my head excruciatingly slowly. “No, I don't think I am.”
“Leah, please,” he whispered, lowering his head down to my height. “I only told you because I thought you knew, to apologize. I wanted you to understand it wasn't something to stress out over. You're freaking out now, and that's the opposite of what I wanted here.”
The cup in my hands felt warm, I let myself focus on it. “It's not your fault, you don't—you can't understand why this news is scaring me.”
“It's not a big deal!” He growled, exasperated by my apparent refusal to budge.
He feels responsible for my feelings, now, doesn't he? But it isn't his fault... I needed to know this.
I just wish I had heard it from Deacon.
Thinking about how the man I loved would try and hide something like that from me, it made my skull tight.
“Leah,” he said, hanging his head in defeat. “Please don't take this out on my brother, he's trying so hard right now. Believe me. What happened was so stupid... he's a good guy.”
Bethany's words entered my mind as I watched Nicholas, observing the way he pleaded with me for the forgiveness of his brother.
Don't break his heart. And I said I wouldn't. But if Deacon is like... if he becomes like...
I promised myself before, I wouldn't ever go through anything like Owen again.
Seeing the hurt, the worry, on Nicholas's face made my heart twitch.
Which promise trumps which?
“It's okay.” My voice was surprisingly firm. “Don't worry about it. I just need to hear it from him, but if you swear it wasn't a big deal—”
“It really wasn't!”
“Then I'll take your word, and keep that in mind. Alright?”
Nicholas tugged at the strap on his sling. “Alright. Just listen to what he says, he already feels awful about it. Believe me.”
That is one thing I do believe, actually.
Abruptly, he wrapped his one arm around me, giving me a firm hug. It felt genuine, and broke down my forced wall of coldness. Smiling, I embraced him back tightly. “It was great meeting you,” I said.
“It's not like I won't see you again,” he chuckled into my ear. “I expect I'll be seeing you a lot, if I'm honest.”
Blinking, I flushed with joy at the overt sign of his acceptance of me. Once more I hugged him, breathing in sharply. “Thank you.”
Breaking apart, I wiped my eyes quickly, eager to hide my emotional burst of tears. This was the first of Deacon's family to actually, fully allow me into their world.
It felt amazing to be welcomed by someone.
“You should go,” he said, smoothing his hair sheepishly. “Deacon probably has that car warmed up and waiting. You guys have a long drive, be careful, okay? That snow wants to have a party, if you ask me.”
“We'll be fine,” I said, grinning with warmth. “We'll see you in two days.”
“Yeah.” Nodding, Nicholas watched me hurry off down the hall, calling after me with authority. “Two days, you better make sure of that!”
****
Nicholas had been right. Deacon was waiting, the shiny blue SUV glistening in the bright white of the fresh snow.
“Hey,” he said, rolling the driver window down. “I put your stuff in the back, you ready?”
“I think so,” I confided, slipping into the car beside him. “Got my coffee, got the heat on. Think we're ready for this.”
Grinning, Deacon put the car into drive, turning it over the shoveled snow. Blinking, I looked up at the bright white sky, shielding my eyes. “Who plowed all of this?”
“My grandfather has a friend, he called him this morning when he heard me and my dad 'discussing' the business of borrowing the car.”
Sipping the bitter coffee, I mulled over his words. “How early were you up, fighting to borrow a car?”
Deacon turned a lovely shade of crimson. “Oh, uh, you know... probably around five?”
It was difficult to maintain my uncomfortable mood around him when he wore his reactions so openly. I don't know what I should do. I can't just not ask him about Nicholas, but is now the right time?
“So,” he said, adjusting the mirrors, turning onto the main road, “this will be a pretty long drive. Do you want some music, or maybe we can sing to amuse ourselves?”
Sing... that reminds me... No, I can't ask about that, either. I don't want to ruin this trip, now that things feel so good again.
Or, they had felt good, anyway.
Glancing at Deacon, I saw the sparkle in his lively honey colored eyes. It's still good for him, I'll just wait to ask him about everything. I can handle that burden.
“Okay, throw on the radio.” Leaning back, I sipped my drink and enjoyed how wonderful the world looked when it was covered in pure white.
He flicked the knob, blasting the predictable tunes of Christmas songs into the car. “Not sick of these yet, I hope.”
“Not sick yet,” I admitted. “I have a terrible secret. I actually really love Christmas music.”
“In that case,” he grinned, turning the radio up loud enough to drown out his words, “you're in for a real treat!”
Together, we roared down that early morning road, the repetitive lyrics of the holidays on our tongues.
I was thankful, truly.
Such noise allowed me to escape the worries building up inside my head.
****
It wasn't until the first stop for gas that Deacon finally asked me about my family.
Standing there, filling up the tank, he spoke to me through the crack in the window. “Anything I should expect ahead of time, Leah?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, tipping my empty coffee container upside down sadly. Maybe I should fill this up while we're here.
Jiggling the nozzle, he squinted at the numbers as they rolled upwards on the display. Seeing the cost of our trip straight in front of me, before we were even done, was not comforting. “I'm just wondering if there's... maybe, you know, some warnings or heads ups or something before I walk into this.”
“You mean, you want me to prep you for meeting my parents?”
“I'd feel a bit more confident, I'll be honest, if I knew what I was heading into.” Winding the tubing back up, he shut the small tank-cover on the side of the car.
I can understand that logic, easily. Opening the passenger door, I motioned to the store with my travel mug. He understood what I wanted to do right away, his smile quirking up on one edge.
Together, we entered the gas station, the place looking bright yellow in the daylight. “Okay, well, if you have any particular questions, just ask. Otherwise, you're meeting... I mean, I've told you before about them.”
“In a sense, yes,” he admitted, watching me fill up the metallic container with fresh coffee. “But Leah, you haven't actually told me much about them. You've only given me an understanding of the situation, as a whole.”
The apologetic tone in his voice held back my knee-jerk desire to feel upset. He's right, I haven't said much about my parents. Not specifics, and only the bad stuff. Actually...
Grabbing a packet of small chocolate chip muffins off of a shelf, I headed to the front register. I waited until we were back outside in the icy air to speak again. “So, you're right. Let me try it this way... I'm kind of pulling a 'you' right now, Deacon.”
“I—what?” He stared at me while I climbed into the car, shutting his door heavily.
Slurping the hot drink in my hands, my eyes shut quickly. “Yeah. You didn't tell me about your brother, right? I never really told you about my little sister, I don't think, either.”
“I vaguely recall you mentioning her, actually.” The engine rumbled, returning us to the road. “But it was... brief.”
That's right, I let that slip out the night I told him everything. Remembering how I had sobbed, his body holding tight against me under a tree by the street, it made my fac
e warm.
“Do you not talk about her because of some weird jealousy?” He asked, smiling sheepishly at his roundabout way of admitting his conflict with Nicholas.
Tugging open the doughnut package, a tiny laugh escaped me. “Not really. Her and I just never got along, we were never close. We fought constantly about everything.”
“Alright,” he said thoughtfully. “So, what's her name?”
Chewing the chocolate pastry, I turned my head, watching the frosted trees fly by outside. “Her name is Savannah. I guess she's the same age as Nicholas.”
“And?”
“And?” I repeated, offering him one of the doughnuts.
Deacon took it, glancing at me quickly before returning to watching the road. “And tell me more. I want to know about these people.”
You think that, but I'm not convinced.
Licking my thumb, wasting time, I sighed. “It won't matter, I doubt you'll meet her. I haven't seen her in... three years, at least.”
“Do you guys just not talk, at all?”
“Nope.” The doughnut in my belly felt heavy and unwelcome. Washing it down with the searing hot coffee was a welcome sensation. “I don't even know how to get in touch with her, or where she is. She was staying with my aunt Fanny for awhile, now I'm not even sure of that.”
We didn't even have much of a last conversation. She called me to say that Mom and Dad were back in town, and that was it.
Deacon said nothing for some time. Nibbling the snacks, we drove in silence, each lost in our own mind.
Wiping his hand on his jeans, he cleared his throat. “Okay. Tell me about your parents, then.”
Laughing nervously, I sank deep into the seat. The belt tugged at my shoulders, arguing with my slanted position. “This is sort of hard for me.”
“Sorry,” he said gently, clearly meaning it. Turning my head, I studied the fine wrinkles of his knotted eyebrows.
He's nervous, like I was. I have to remember that. This isn't about just me anymore.
“Here's the thing,” I started, stumbling along my words as I rambled. “The people I knew, the parents I grew up with and struggled with up until two months ago? That... my mom didn't sound anything like that when I talked to her this morning. I don't know about Dad, but from what she was saying, things...” I was terrified to say it, to admit it and find it wrong later. “Things might have changed, Deacon.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
Crinkling the empty wrapper in my hands, I balled it up roughly. “None. They've got an apartment, they sounded healthy... she said things have been crazy for them. I have no clue what that means. Crazy,” I said again, testing the word.
He shifted on the seat, slowing down around a curve. The signs indicating we were approaching the highway glittered green with new ice. “Maybe I should have just asked for their names.”
Startled, I covered my mouth to muffle my giggles. His grin was smooth, though he didn't even look over at me. Composing myself, I tucked my hair behind my ears.
He's so good at removing the discomfort in the air.
“Tammy,” I said gently. “And his name is Joshua.”
“I'll probably just call them Mr. and Mrs. Rook, honestly,” he mused. “But thanks, it's good to know who they are.”
I watched him a moment longer, then stared back out the window. The world flew by, blurring easily so I couldn't tell one thing from the next.
It would, indeed, be good to know who they are.
I'm not sure I actually know anymore.
Chapter 18.
It was dark by the time we made it over the line and into my home state. Both of us were exhausted, the drive draining us completely.
On the map, I glanced over for a quick eyeball of where my parents' new apartment should have been. I knew the state pretty well, it was small enough to memorize most of it.
“You know,” I wondered out loud, reaching for my phone. “I just thought of something.”
“Hmn?”
“I think I'm going to text Colby.” My fingers were already writing the message out. “I've emailed him some, but we haven't seen each other since I left. I didn't even say good bye to him.”
Deacon made a sound of agreement, driving slowly across quiet streets. It was Christmas Eve, everyone was inside enjoying the warmth and season with loved ones.
Will we be doing that, soon?
My phone vibrated with the fast reply. Fumbling, I opened it to peer at the bright screen. It turned the entire inside of the car an eerie blue.
“What's it say?” Deacon asked.
Smiling, I began typing a response. “He wants to meet up tomorrow. I'm telling him we literally only have tomorrow before we need to leave. Maybe we can grab a late dinner before we hit the road.”
“Yeah, if you want to squeeze him in among the time with your parents, that'll have to be the way we do it.”
I wish I had more time. I can't believe I'm even back in this state.
Colby's final text was a simple one:
'Can't wait.'
Grinning in delight, I closed the cell and slipped it into my pocket. “Guess we try to squeeze him in before we leave, then.”
“Are you excited?”
“Sort of,” I admitted, eyeing the brightly lit roads. Holiday lights adorned almost every house, making the place I'd grown up look far prettier than I ever recalled it being.
When I left, all I could see was the dirt, the grime, the poverty. Now...
Did things look different in the cloak of winter snow and Christmas baubles?
Deacon slowed at a stop sign, glancing out at the lake that stretched along our right side. “How much further?”
“What?” I asked, lost in memory. That lake, I used to go fishing there all the time as a kid. “Oh, uh, not much. She said they were down Maple, which is coming up.”
My boyfriend peeked in the mirror, checking behind us. Seeing no other cars on the empty road, he idled at the stop sign. “You alright?”
Clutching my fingers in my lap, I gave a weak shrug. “I'm having trouble deciding. Coming back here is making me remember all sorts of things. It's... deciding how to feel is...”
“You don't need to decide anything,” he whispered, reaching across to grab my knee. “Leah, this is going to be strange no matter what you try and tell yourself. But don't be scared of it being okay, it could easily be such a good experience.”
Gripping the top of his hand, I linked my fingers into his. “I know, you're right. I'm struggling to just let myself go with everything. I keep second guessing my emotions.”
Deacon gave me a tender smile in the darkness of the car. A loud honk behind us made us both jolt apart, laughing nervously as he drove past the stop sign.
Feeling the back of my neck, how my pulse was vibrating, I held my breath. He's right, I should just let things progress. Trying to decipher what's okay or not okay in my mind is useless.
I'm just terrified of feeling hopeful... only to have it turn out to be exactly like it was before.
Rumbling onto a side street, I motioned for Deacon to slow down. “It should be coming up. She said it was number twelve.”
“Here, then,” he said excitedly, pulling the SUV up along the snowy lawn of a squat white house. “Is this it? I expected an apartment, I guess.”
“Well,” I mumbled, leaning forward so my nose touched the glass, “a lot of houses have been converted into 'apartments' here for renting. This is the place she said, but...” But it looks too nice. They couldn't have moved here, could they?
That was when the front window blinds shifted, a familiar face peeking out at us where we sat warily on the street.
It was a face I knew inherently, the kind you could never forget.
It was my father.
“This is it,” I breathed, gripping the handle. “This is their home. Come on.”
We had hardly gotten out of the vehicle before the front door opened, the light pouring out onto the dark
snow and illuminating my stunned face.
In a thick black jacket, a hat that covered most of his head, my dad stomped out into the cold. He was upon me before I had a chance to react.
Not that a reaction was even possible.
“Leah,” he breathed, crushing me into him in a tight embrace. “God, Leah.”
“Dad.” It was a single word, but my voice still cracked.
Is this really happening?
Pushing my face against his jacket, the pressure behind my eyelids finally broke. No, I don't want to cry, stop. Hot liquid rolled down my cheeks, vanishing into my scarf.
In my ears I heard the crunch of the snow crust breaking under more feet. Dad let me go, but only so my mother could swoop in for a tight hug.
This is perfectly surreal.
She let me go, holding me at arms length with watery eyes full of raw joy. “I can't believe you're here,” she said.
“Neither can I.” It was an honest response.
“Come on,” she said, looking from me to Deacon. “Let's get you both inside. It's freezing out here.”
The southern boy had his arms full of our bags. I wondered how long I had been standing there, hugging my parents, that he'd been able to gather the luggage up from the trunk.
My legs felt numb as we walked into the house, warm air tickling my nose. It smelled like vanilla and coffee; nothing like the heavy scent of tobacco I had been expecting.
Are they not smoking anymore? How...?
“Nice to meet you guys,” Deacon said behind me after the door had shut, sealing the cold wind away. Setting the bags down, he offered his palm to my dad. “I'm Deacon, Deacon Day.”
“Well, that's a nice name,” my dad said, gripping my boyfriend's fingers for a firm shake. “Call me Josh. So, you're the one dating my daughter, hmn?”
“Ah, yes sir,” he nodded, flashing his best grin. “That I am.”
“Here, come sit down. You can leave those bags there for now,” Mom said, unzipping her coat and hanging it over the couch.
They all moved, removing winter coverings, chatting warmly as they gathered on the furniture. I was stuck standing there by the door, gazing around in a haze of disbelief.
