Wait for Me

by Louise, Tia

  Taron looks at me like he’s not sure what to do.

  “Just go,” I say before climbing into the bed and sliding down beside her.

  I scoot her closer to my chest as I hear him quietly slipping out my window. Tucking my chin, I kiss the top of her head, curling my body around hers and letting the tears stream silently down my cheeks.

  I tell myself I’m not doing this again. I remind myself how far I’ve come…

  I don’t need him to be happy. I don’t belong to him anymore.

  It takes more effort this time, but I calm my breathing. I put him aside once more, put him back in the box where he belongs and fall asleep.

  24

  Taron

  Sitting on the floor, my back against the double bed, I read and reread the words she’d written, erased, rewritten, scratched out…

  Never sent.

  Every word twists a knife of pain deeper in my gut.

  Dear Taron,

  I still love you…

  Dear Taron,

  Is there a time-limit on forgiveness? If there is, I haven’t reached it…

  Dear Taron,

  I should have told you this a long time ago…

  When did she write them? Why did she never send them? Scrubbing my forehead with my fingers, I wonder if she might possibly still have any of these feelings…

  How could she after what I did?

  My eyes squeeze shut. Remembering myself back in those days is like pouring acid on an open wound. I was so fucked up for so long. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I’d live to see another day. Sometimes I wasn’t sure I deserved to.

  I sure as hell didn’t deserve Noel Aveline LaGrange.

  An email from Sawyer actually gave me the push I needed to drag my ass to get help. He probably doesn’t even remember it. Looking back, it was one of those random messages we’d send on occasion, just letting each other know we were still alive, still hanging in there.

  Another harvest has ended, and I’m tired but happy. It’s hard work, and in the past, before it all, I would’ve taken something like this for granted.

  Now I realize another day is the best we get, another chance to try again…

  He’d included a photo of the hills covered in trees with the sun going down, and I realized he did see them. That morning we’d driven together, I’d wondered if he’d ever even looked at the beauty around him. Maybe he didn’t then, but he does now.

  I knew then this was the only place I would find what I needed. I decided if I could get myself clean, I’d come back here. If I could stay clean long enough to know I wouldn’t hurt her again, I’d try one more time to deserve her.

  Tracking her on the Internet became an obsession. Her products would sell out on her website, and I’d wait for her to announce a restock, picturing her working, wondering if she was in her bedroom or in the kitchen.

  Closing my eyes at night, I’d see Akela at the foot of the bed. I’d see Noel sitting on the floor in front of the laptop watching a how-to video or making notes. Some nights, if I was lucky, I’d feel her in my arms.

  It was the hardest battle I’d ever fought. Physically, I thought I was dying. Mentally, I didn’t believe I would succeed.

  Now, looking at her swirly handwriting on these sheets of paper, I wonder if they would have made a difference. I wonder if knowing she still loved me, that she might forgive me, would have made it harder or easier.

  I wonder what I would have done if I’d known about Dove…

  Lying on my back in the bed, I know I can’t rewrite the past. I can only start where I am and try to make the future better.

  I’m here now. I’m in this place, and I’ve got to try.

  Before the alarm even sounds, I’m out of bed, pulling on my jeans, shoving my feet into my boots, and slipping the shirt over my head. I give my teeth a quick brush. It’s not as cool this morning, but Thanksgiving’s coming, then Christmas… Noel’s birthday.

  Akela greets me halfway to the house, lifting her front legs and doing a happy hop. I give her head a quick rub before stopping at the back steps.

  Watching Noel through the door before she even knows I’m here has always been my favorite part of the morning. She’s in gray sweats and a long-sleeved tee, and her pretty dark hair hangs in waves down her back.

  Our pint-sized pixie sits on the counter beside her. “Why don’t you like pageants, Mamma?” Dove frowns, seeming very focused on stirring whatever’s in the bowl she holds.

  “It’s not that I don’t like them. I just think they’re silly.” My eyes are drawn to Noel’s cute little ass as she bends forward into the refrigerator, standing with a fresh carton of eggs in her hand. I wait until she puts them down this time, feeling a hint of a grin as I remember what happened last time she saw me.

  “It’s like sticking a blue ribbon on one of those pigs at the state fair.” She finishes, breaking eggs one after another into a bowl.

  “I’m not a pig.” Dove’s nose scrunches.

  “No, you’re not.” Her mother taps that nose. “You’re my little dove. Now give me that batter. You’ve stirred it enough.”

  She shifts on the counter, turning her back to me. “But I want to be Princess Peach.”

  It appears safe, so I open the door. “Morning, ladies.”

  Noel’s eyes fly to mine, and she blinks away quickly, turning to face the stove. “Morning.”

  “Need some help?” My voice is quiet, and I enter slowly, as if I’m approaching a wounded animal.

  “Taron!” Dove scoots around to face me, and I catch a small frown on Noel’s lips. I told Dove to call me Taron… I didn’t know what else to do—yet. “Mamma says pageants are like putting ribbons on pigs, but I want to be Princess Peach. What do you think?”

  She blinks those bright eyes up at me expectantly, and I’m stumped. “Ah… Well. You’re very pretty.” That makes her smile. “What will you do for talent?”

  I’m guessing they have talent. Don’t all pageants have talent?

  “Dance like Angelina Ballerina.” She wobbles her little head at me like Duh. “Do you watch Angelina Ballerina?”

  “I can’t say I have—”

  “Come on.” She picks up the brown stuffed mouse lying on the bar beside her and scoots into my arms. Sitting on my hip, she points to the living room. “We can watch the one with Mr. Operatski while Mamma makes us breakfast.”

  I hold her. I really like having her so comfortable in my arms, but I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into with this pageant thing.

  Noel saves me. “Dove, Taron needs to help with the hoecakes. You can watch Angelina while we talk.”

  Her little shoulders droop, but she wiggles out of my arms. “Okay.” She huffs, prancing through the door and into the other room.

  I hear the sound of harps and flutes, and I watch for a second as she swings her arms side to side and twirls, kicking her leg straight out behind her.

  “Angelina Ballerina?” I step up to where Noel is spooning batter into the hot pan.

  “It’s a cartoon. A dancing mouse.” She passes me the bowl and takes a step back, putting her hand on her hip. “She calls you Taron?”

  “I didn’t know what to tell her. Mr. sounds wrong, and I thought it was probably too soon for her to call me—”

  “It’s too soon.” Noel’s voice is short, but she seems more protective than angry.

  I watch the batter frying in the pan as I think about what I want to say. I think about last night and how standing next to her right now, making breakfast like we used to pricks a longing so deep, I’ve got to fight pulling her against my chest.

  I want my family.

  “I kept track of you while I was in Nashville.” I give her a smile. “Your business really took off.”

  “So you’re a stalker?” Amber eyes cut up at me, and I shrug, flipping the four cakes quickly.

  “Did you ever stalk me?”

  “No.” She answers fast, then adds quietly. “I didn’t dare.”

/>   Another slice of pain. I give the four cakes a beat longer before scooping them onto a plate. Setting the bowl aside, I face her straight on.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Noel.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you either. That’s not why I came back.”

  She pours the scrambled egg mixture into the large skillet and as it starts to bubble, she looks up at me. “Why did you come back?”

  For you… We’re interrupted by Sawyer and Leon entering the room. “Smells good in here.” Sawyer reaches out to clasp my hand before going to the table.

  Leon doesn’t even look at me. He takes down five plates and goes to the table, putting one at each seat.

  They’re both wearing blazers and khaki slacks. “What’s the occasion?” I step over to where Sawyer’s pouring coffee from a carafe.

  “Church.” Noel steps past me putting the bowl of eggs and the plate of hoecakes on the table. “Dove, come eat breakfast.”

  Church? Reading my face, Sawyer answers my silent question. “We’ve been going more regular since Dove came along.”

  “Dove, breakfast.” Noel opens a drawer and pulls out forks and knives then glances up at me. “You don’t have to go.”

  “No, I’m glad to go, I just…” I look down at the jeans and long-sleeved Henley I’m wearing. “I need to change clothes.”

  Be the fountain and not the drain is out on the sign in front of the small, brick building. I have no idea what that means, but I guess I’ll find out.

  Inside, I’m surprised to see so many faces I recognize. Noel takes Dove to another part of the building where she says she’s going to Sunday school. Sawyer steps over to talk to a man I’m pretty sure is Ed Daniels, and Leon leaves us to sit with a pretty girl I don’t know. I wonder whatever happened to Betsy.

  “My goodness, is this Taron?” A wobbly voice draws my attention, and I look down to see a birdlike old woman with thin gray hair styled in a little bun at the nape of her neck.

  She’s neatly dressed in a smock that has little flowers all over it. It’s been a long, long time, but I recognize her at once.

  “Miss Jessica?” Taking her outstretched hand, I carefully hug her fragile body, and she laughs.

  “You have a good memory.”

  I remember everything about those days, even her smiling face appearing on my phone during one of my many calls. “I couldn’t forget you.”

  “Still as charming as ever.” She pats my hand roughly, and I notice a woman with a name tag standing off to the side watching her. “How long have you been back?”

  “I got here late Friday night.”

  “I take it you’ve met your daughter?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “She’s a beauty. And sweet as her mamma.” She slides her hand into the crook of my arm and helps me escort her down the middle aisle to a row where she stops. “How long are you planning to stay?”

  Glancing to where Noel is just returning to the small sanctuary, I lower my voice. “Hopefully, a long time.”

  That lights her gray eyes. “I’m so glad. This is a good thing.”

  She lowers herself slowly into the pew, and I glance up to catch a pair of dark eyes slicing into me. Mindy sits in the pew beside her mother, and from the look on the woman’s face, Mrs. Jenny does not think me being here is a good thing.

  Chords sound out from the organ at the front of the room, and I quickly join Sawyer and Noel in a pew across the aisle. Sawyer is on the end with Noel between the two of us. A slim man wearing glasses stands in the pulpit at the front of the room and holds out his hands to welcome us.

  Then the organist is joined by a piano playing “A Mighty Fortress is our God,” and I hold the maroon songbook for Noel and me. She seems surprised I know the tune, but I grew up in Nashville, not Nepal.

  A few more hymns and we take a moment to shake hands. Mindy appears at Noel’s side, smiling up at me. Her green eyes are wide, and she’s tied her kinky-curly brown hair back in a ponytail.

  “Taron Rhodes? What a surprise this is!” Her eyes go to her friend’s. “When did this happen?”

  “Yesterday.” Noel hugs her and I can’t make out what she says in Mindy’s ear.

  Mindy leans back, looking straight in her eyes. “You’d better.”

  Her mother is behind her, giving Sawyer a hug then turning to Noel. “You feeling okay, honey?”

  “I’m fine.” Noel’s voice is flustered, and the woman faces me.

  “So you’re back.” It’s not a question, and she’s not smiling.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I reach out to shake her hand. She does not shake mine, so I lower it, wiping it down my dark jeans. “I hope that’s not a problem.”

  “I do too.”

  The pastor takes his place at the podium, and we all take our seats. He starts talking about ways we can be fountains, refreshing, life giving, rather than draining away the happiness from others around us.

  I look around the room as he continues speaking, remembering what Noel told me about the people here stepping in to take care of them after her parents died. Mrs. Jenny’s stern eyes meet mine, and I guess I deserve her disapproval. I guess to her I’m a massive drain.

  Not anymore.

  The pastor says for us to bow our heads and as I’m turning, I catch a frown I had not expected. Digger Hayes is glaring at me from the front of the room.

  Bastard.

  The final Amen is said, and the organ bursts into the Doxology. Noel stands beside me, and Sawyer says he’ll get Dove. I touch her arm lightly, but she moves it out of my grasp.

  “You never said why you came back.” Even pissed at me, she’s still so beautiful.

  She’s wearing a chunky burnt-orange sweater that makes her amber eyes glow and black pants that hug her curves down to the black ankle boots on her feet.

  Her dark hair hangs over one shoulder in smooth waves to her breast. I remember her in her bedroom last night in only that thin shirt and sweats, her hair damp from the shower. She’s still so fucking beautiful… and so defensive.

  She’s a woman now, the mother of my child. I want her to be the mother of all my children. I came back because my life will never be complete without her in it, but it’s too soon to say all of that. I have to earn it first.

  Instead, I hold out my hand, escorting her to the back of the room. “Maybe we should take it slow.”

  “You can take it however you want. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  We stop for Noel to hug Miss Jessica at the back door. She tells me to come by and see her, and I hug her again before the nurse leads her out to a waiting van.

  I hold the door for Noel to exit the sanctuary. “Can we try to be friends? For Dove’s sake?”

  Our daughter comes up the walk skipping. Sawyer holds one of her hands and in the other she has a handful of papers.

  “I would do anything for her.” Noel’s voice is quiet.

  It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but I can work with it.

  “Taron Rhodes. Didn’t expect to see you here again.” Digger’s voice makes my skin bristle, and we stop, turning to face him.

  A little girl with mousey brown hair in perfectly formed sausage curls stands at his side. I don’t miss her scowling at my daughter, and I think the Hayes family must have a lot of bad eggs in it.

  “I didn’t come back to see you.” My voice is level. We’re at church, so I don’t plan to engage with him.

  “If history’s our guide, you’ll be gone as soon as you get what you want.”

  Dove slips her small hand in mine, and my jaw clenches. “I left to serve my country as you well know.”

  “Uncle Digger donated two thousand dollars to make a Dixie Gem office space at the civic center.” The little girl’s voice is as snide as her uncle’s.

  Dove inhales a little gasp, and her eyes flash to mine. I’m caught off guard by her turning to me, and a surge of protectiveness floods my chest. />
  “This your niece, Hayes?” I nod toward the little girl who’s wearing a matching leopard print coat and knit hat with black boots and leggings.

  “She is indeed.” He smiles proudly at the little girl, who is currently smirking at my daughter.

  I have a sadistic urge to pull her knit cap down over her face.

  Noel speaks up, her voice annoyed. “Unusual timing for a donation of that size, Digger.”

  “Darcy, what have I told you about discussing family business in public?”

  She looks up at him, fake remorse in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Uncle Digger.” Then she sticks out at her tongue at my daughter… Little—

  “Good morning, brothers, sisters.” The pastor walks up, preventing me from grabbing Digger by the collar. “I see we have a visitor today. I’m Pastor Sinclair.”

  “Pastor, this is Taron Rhodes.” Noel’s voice is smooth, but I’m not ready to let this go. “Taron was in the service with my brother.”

  “Well, thank you for your service.” The older man shakes my hand, and I break my staring war with Digger. “And welcome to First Methodist. I hope we see you again.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll be back.”

  “He’s staying in the cottage!” Dove skips beside me smiling and holding my hand. “He’s helping Uncle Sawyer with the new trees.”

  “Is that so?” The man bends down to smile at my daughter, holding his Bible into his side. “That’s a big job. I’ll be praying God protects and gives you good weather.”

  Noel smiles, placing her hand on Dove’s shoulder. “Thank you, Pastor. I guess we should all get some lunch now.”

  “Very interesting sermon, Pastor.” Digger’s tone is haughty. “I’d never heard that expression before, but I was edified by your elaboration on the topic.”

  Oh, brother.

  “I thank you for that…”

  They continue talking, but Noel catches Dove’s hand, guiding us away quickly. Once we’re at Sawyer’s old Silverado, which she’s now driving, she lets out an exasperated noise.