Is it possible she felt the same way I did about—?
“Hey!” Her eyebrows lift in a rush of excitement. “I bought you some caramels from my job!”
Pleasant surprise pulls me into a grin—and just like that, it’s easier to look at each other. We were in need of a subject change.
I ask eagerly, “What? You did?”
“Yeah, I meant to give them to you last night, but I forgot.” She gets to her feet. “What do you say, hmm? Want some candy for breakfast?”
Well, that is freaking awesome. The caramels from The Chocolate Shop are little edible pieces of magic—definitely my favorite sweet treat.
I stand, too, and rub my hands together. “Um, yes! That sounds amazing. Good start to our day.”
“I agree!”
In no time, she has coffee brewing and I’m savoring a bite of a delightfully chewy, salt-sprinkled caramel like it’s the last one on the planet. Thankfully, that isn’t true; I have eleven more in the fancy package she presented to me.
Once I’m done thanking the daylights out of her, I lean as lazily against a counter as I can without slithering to the floor. “Okay, so what’s the plan for this morning? We need to go buy picnic food?”
She nods as she opens the cabinet the mugs are in. “Yep. Sandwiches sound good to you?”
“Sure do. With chips and cookies.”
“Mmhmm.”
I snap the fingers that aren’t currently aiming my confection toward my mouth. “And we need to find a kite for Theo.”
She gives an excited gasp and sends me a glance to match. “Yes! I hope we can find a cute one—but oh, before then, we should get you home so you can change clothes and whatever else.”
After she sets two mugs on the counter, she pauses in thought.
“Do you think we should also make some calls about repairing where that deer hit your car? Your headlight needs attention for sure.”
I pause, too, in enjoying this new bite of my caramel. Then I groan because she’s right. I’m not sure what I will or won’t be responsible for paying, but in any case, that damage will be a slight hassle to deal with.
At least it wasn’t horrific, though.
It could’ve been so, so much worse, and it wasn’t.
In Noelle’s expression, it seems like I can see some of that same perceptive gratitude.
Soon, I’m finished with my caramel and the coffee is finished brewing. Perfect timing. She reaches over and carefully brings the steaming pot toward her, but just before she starts pouring from it, she pauses so she can pull her hair back behind her shoulders. I notice for the first time that one small place on her neck is boasting a reddened bruise-scrape thing.
I deduce it’s probably from the seatbelt in my car.
My stomach lurches—she did get hurt.
But that injury, too, could’ve been so much worse. There’s no room for the sick feeling trying to stir in me; I give fresh gratitude permission to conquer it.
Once the coffee has been poured and the pot is safely put away, I move over to her. “Speaking of last night: let me look at this spot on your neck where your seatbelt got you.”
She whirls around to me with widening eyes, nearly jostling into me. “What? I’m hurt?”
Before I can stop her, she’s feeling too frantically around her neck—she finds the spot with a gasp and a wince.
“Ow! How did I not—? Oh my God. Am I okay?”
All of a sudden, her eyes are two pools of blue nervousness, like she’s afraid she has only imagined being in one piece all this time and is about to find out she’s in grave danger.
I combat her worry with a calm smile.
“You’re okay. Probably didn’t notice it sooner ‘cause it isn’t big or bad.” I take hold of her wrist, and although I have an easy time tugging her hand away from the scrape, I can still feel the tension that has built in her. “Everything is just fine, and so are you.”
“Really?”
“Really. Trust me.” I give her wrist a light squeeze.
The mere way she exhales tells me those words can’t be resisted, can’t be argued, can’t be overtaken by fear or anything else ugly.
This time, my little smile gets reciprocated. She does trust me.
I’m not her ocean for nothing.
She finally tilts her head so I can get a closer look at her neck.
As I inch forward to do it, her voice grazes the air more softly than before.
“Um, Beck…you really do mean the world to me, you know. And I’ve been looking forward to our plans for today since we made them—been looking forward to them a lot.”
It’s hard to know if I already intended to use my fingertips for this inspection or if her words are the reason I’m lifting them.
“Me, too, Ellie. Big time.”
I peek at her face just long enough to watch a happy smile tug at the corners of her lips.
Then I look back down at her neck and, very lightly, touch a safe distance away from the small injury.
Her breathing didn’t stutter just now, I silently insist before the idea can hit me too hard. That was my breathing.
After a beat, I realize that’s not much of an improvement.
Well, it was the last time I’ll have stuttering breaths over her.
“Yep,” I mumble on accident.
She hears it and flicks me a questioning glance.
“Yep, your neck is totally fine,” I recover, and truthfully, at that. “Not bleeding or looking terrible. But you can put some ice or something on it if you want.”
Her curiosity fades. “Mmm. Couldn’t hurt, huh?”
“Nope.”
As she straightens up, my fingers drop away from her. She doesn’t refocus on the coffee just yet, though. Instead, her eyes are roving over my neck.
“I don’t see any ouches on you….”
We take the time to pat at ourselves just in case anything else is hiding out of sight. Even though we checked each other outside my car, we’ve just seen proof that if we had truly been hurt at all, we might not have noticed it in our upset. Adrenaline and whatnot.
But we determine that we’re fine, which brings our smiles back.
And after we turn to the coffee, I get a laugh out of her with my idea to put a caramel in my mug.
And when my beloved candy shares its awesome flavor but becomes a weird mess of meltiness, I join Noelle in laughing.
And the day looks brighter yet.
—
Even after going by my apartment, to Target and the grocery store, and back to Noelle’s house to get a few picnic things ready, we’re on schedule to pick Theo up at eleven.
Gail and Grant come hurrying out the front door when we arrive, looking like they’re about to burst out of their skin from seeing us.
My expectation for their reaction to the accident was for it to include relief about my safety; they’ve been so good to me over the years, and I know they care about me a lot. But in reality, they surpass that and sweep me up in the same whirlwind of gratitude their daughter gets swept up in. It’s a great surprise to me—I wasn’t ready for their fervent outpouring of love to be directed at me just as much as her.
Grant’s use of the word ‘son’ last night meant so damn much to me. More than I knew what to do with. But apparently, most of me hadn’t held out any hope that he or Gail would carry the significance of it forward into right now. Hadn’t dared to hope they would make me feel like I really am exactly that important to them.
It tightens my throat something fierce that I was wrong.
“I’m really proud of you,” Grant says to me again as he firmly pats my back during our hug. “I’m damn proud of you for not freaking out in the moment. It’s so hard, Beckett, to not freak out and overreact when you’re about to collide with something like that. It’s so hard to stay calm enough to not make things worse. But you did it. You took care of things.”
I can’t seem to do anything but nod.
He’s righ
t, but I didn’t actively handle the situation like that. I didn’t see the deer and think, ‘Okay, here’s the checklist for what to do and what not to do.’ By some miracle, I reacted the right way without trying to. Good instincts, maybe? I don’t know. But I, too, am thankful I didn’t react poorly—I can’t bear to imagine how horribly things could’ve turned out if I had.
“Gail and I love you,” he says before releasing me and moving those firm pats to my shoulders. “You know that, right? That you’re genuinely loved here?”
Swallowing hard, I meet his direct gaze. He raises his eyebrows, visibly emotional in his own way.
It helps me not feel stupid about my voice being weaker than I want it to be.
“I know, and I love you both too. You’ve been the best parent figures to me. I can’t thank you enough for that.”
He draws a deep breath in through his nose. I can’t really read the look he gives me now.
After a moment, he nods and sniffs. “Well, you ain’t gotta thank us for that. It’s what you deserve.”
Honestly, between how they’ve treated me and what I’ve learned from knowing Noelle and Cliff, I can’t help believing him.
He steps away and goes to Noelle, so Gail comes over to me.
And when she hugs me, in a way it makes me think of my own mom.
She wasn’t as cruel to me as my dad was, but she also was never kind. I never had normal mother-and-child moments with her. Although she was unquestionably a victim of his abuse, too, it didn’t seem to affect her like it affected me; she wasn’t scared or weak, only angry and violent right back. I don’t know why. All I know is she was always in her own bad moods, even when my dad wasn’t around—which means I never received affection from her. Ever. Not in front of him as some kind of defense against him, and not behind his back as a reassurance that someone in that house cared what happened to me.
Here and now, Gail hugs me as hard as she can, and she wavers out my name the way a mother should when a child has narrowly avoided getting hurt, and it’s more of a comfort than I can explain. Almost more of a comfort than I can stand.
Much of what she says to me sounds like what her husband said, but as I blink at the burn in my eyes, I still treasure every bit of it. I still fully believe her words of love and mean it from the bottom of my heart when I return them.
She mentions how proud she is, too, that I didn’t swerve off the road or into oncoming traffic to avoid hitting the deer.
I compose myself enough to tell her, “Thank you. It was terrifying, though, so to be honest, I didn’t have time to think. I didn’t plan my reaction or anything.”
“Doesn’t matter, honey.” It’s impressive how big she manages to shake her head while still hugging me. “Doesn’t change a thing. You did a good job keeping you and Noelle safe, and that’s that.”
A small, grateful smile is brought out of me.
I promise her, “I’ll always do my best to protect her and Theo.”
Her arms finally loosen, and she steps back from me. Then she looks up at me and pats my cheeks in her soothing, motherly way.
“Oh, I know you will,” she murmurs. “I know that for a fact.”
It’s the steadiest thing she’s said to me, and it strengthens my smile.
She puts a guiding hand behind my back and extends the other toward Noelle and Grant.
“Speaking of Theo,” she says where we can all hear, “we didn’t know if it was our place to tell her about the deer, so we didn’t. She’s gone on having herself a wonderful time. Right now, she’s watching cartoons.”
In my opinion, that’s for the best. I know in the past she has asked about how Cliff ‘became an angel,’ and she was met with as much truth as someone so young can handle; it wasn’t much, but she does know it had to do with a car wreck. Mentioning that her mama and I had been anywhere near similar danger last night wouldn’t have done her any good.
Judging by the way Noelle catches my eye and nods, I think she agrees.
We find Theodora watching TV in the living room. Delighted though she is to see us, we still manage to spend more time on hugging than her attention span likes. Since she doesn’t know what happened and Noelle isn’t telling her, she doesn’t realize how much we cherish getting to see her right now. Doesn’t know how upset we were because of what the accident reminded us of.
She puts her little foot down after Noelle’s second kneeling hug—she wiggles away and asks if she can wear an old princess Halloween costume to our picnic.
Noelle’s eyes meet mine again, and despite her obvious lingering emotion, she shares in my chortling.
“And Mommy, Uncle Beck, look at this!” Theo waves her hands around at us, showing off the cute temporary tattoos on the backs of them. “Grammie put these on me!”
Interested, we ooh-and-ahh. I don’t know about Noelle, but I rather forgot temporary tattoos were a thing.
Then Theo nearly punches her in the face trying to show her the glitter on one tattoo, and we burst into full laughter.
Noelle reminds her to be careful with actions like that, then takes those small, colorful hands in her own.
“Theodora,” she says, “I absolutely, more-than-anything, always-and-forever love you.”
Theo turns to me. “Do you love me that much?”
Even though she technically always reminds me of Cliff, something about her in this moment really reminds me of him.
I don’t know, I guess it doesn’t really make sense. Her eyes aren’t green like his were, and he never asked me a question like that, and he and I didn’t know each other when we were her age. But yes, somehow, the way she’s looking at me is reminiscent of him.
Maybe because her expression is so honest.
Honest and patient.
Honest, patient, full of interest in what I have to say and how I feel.
Yeah. I think that’s it.
In this random way, she has managed to channel a little bit more of who he was. A little bit more of how he used to treat me.
Maybe it’s silly for it to seem so special to me, but it does.
I smile at her—at her, Theodora, not at the shadow of Cliff’s memory—and say, “Yes, I love you that much, too, and nothing will ever change it.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope. Not a thing in the entire universe.”
“Wow!” She looks at Noelle again. “Will it change for you?”
With a slight sniffle, Noelle shakes her head. “Never, ever, ever.”
Theo pulls out of her gentle hold. “I’m gonna go ask Grammie and Papaw too!” She doesn’t waste a moment in leaving us behind.
Ah, what a gift she is.
I chuckle and start standing from my stooped position.
Noelle does the same, but her laughter seems strained—and then, even before we’re all the way straightened up, she gathers me into a hug by the shoulders.
Though I’m surprised and a bit thrown off balance, my arms go right around her waist, not requiring an explanation. She wants a hug, she gets one.
And I don’t mean to turn a kiss to the cascade of hair apparently concealing her jaw. It just happens.
Cliff is still lingering in my mind—of course I hadn’t been aiming for the soft breath Noelle takes against my chest as she very obviously tries not to shiver.
But I can’t help how hard liking strikes me, either. Can’t help that it feels better yet for her to hug me tighter and bury her warm face in my neck for the second time this morning.
It means she wants to press closer, not pull away, and I can’t not love that. I have no idea how to not love it.
Have no idea how to not be disappointed that she doesn’t decide to reciprocate the kiss while she’s there.
I focus on her sigh and how she relaxes despite this hold she has on me. I’ve calmed some part of her even if I might’ve accidentally shaken up another. While I can’t tell what she was thinking about in those last moments with Theo, I can tell our hug has done whatever she hop
ed it would.
I’m glad—
—and also suddenly failing at fending off my own light shiver because she has just spoken against my neck in a hum so gentle I almost didn’t catch it.
‘What if I just never let you go, Beckett?’
A vow more than a question.
A tattoo that is the farthest thing from temporary.
Meant only for me.
For all it’s doing to my insides, it may as well have been the kiss I wanted from her before…except it might be even better.
I find enough voice to admit, “I would love it.”
She gives in to a little smile. Lets out a freer chuckle than a minute ago. Right against my skin.
Stop doing these things with her, orders the warning part of my brain, spearing my deep satisfaction with guilt. Stop it. Her kiss doesn’t belong on your neck. You don’t belong with her. She’s Cliff’s, not yours.
I’m left a bit breathless, so sharp is the quick prick of that guilt.
Then, just as quickly, up comes the soft acknowledgement, But Cliff—
“Noelle?” blares a new voice through my brain, through these moments, through the living room, seeming terribly loud. “When are y’all going on the picnic? I think Theo’s about ready for lunch!”
Gail’s interruption has startled Noelle too. She isn’t jerking herself out of my arms, exactly, but she isn’t pulling back with composure either; as she turns to respond to her mom, I feel jumpiness in her muscles and glimpse color in her cheeks.
Although I miss her closeness already, I’m relieved to have something to think about besides the thought that was trying to fill my head.
It’s a familiar and true thought I’ve had a million times in the last two years, but its visits have always been heavy, sad, painful.
And rightfully so.
It shouldn’t be anything else, shouldn’t offer even the faintest whisper of—
Noelle turns to me. “Are you ready to go?”
Another hint to steer clear of my mental quicksand.
I heed it. I imagine putting up a wall between that certain train of thought and the rest of me.
Then, with a smile, I summon much safer thoughts of lunch.
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