by Harper Sloan
I shake my head and thump my thumb against the steering wheel. "I don't think so. I think I finally found it."
"That makes no damn sense."
I love Leigh like she's my own sister, but I don't need to explain how I feel about this to her, or to anyone. Me knowing what I need to get done has to be enough now. "You don't have to understand it, Leigh. I just wanted you to be aware so you could be there for Maverick if he needs you."
"It's not Maverick that I'm freakin' worried about, Q! Maverick is the last person I'm worried about. He's done his time frettin' about that shit, and all he's done for a year is prepare himself for when this moment would come. It's you I'm freakin' out about. What does Clay think about this?"
"I already talked to Clay. He's supportin' me on this, Leigh. It's somethin' I need to do."
"It's somethin' you need to do?" she repeats in disbelief. "And Tate? Does he support this as well?"
My shoulders relax at the mention of Tate and I feel the worry leaving my face, my lips tipping up into a small smile. "Tate would support me if I wanted to drive to the moon."
She scoffs. "Well, that's ridiculous, you can't even drive to the . . . Oh." With the wind taken right out of her sails, she stops talking.
I laugh gently. "I love you, Leighton. You're my best friend, my sister, my strength through some hard shit, but I need you to not worry about me. You'll always be the first two, but it's time I learn how to be my own source of strength--somethin' I'm findin' isn't as dauntin' as I believed it to be."
She sniffles and I feel my nose burning, my own emotions getting wonky.
"That being said, you know how much I love you, Leigh, but when I'm done talkin' to them you're not gonna be the first person I run to. Don't spend the rest of the afternoon freakin' out, but I need to get this done alone, and when I do, it's gonna be Tate I run to after. I suspect you aren't gonna be left wonderin' what's goin' on in your snowy flour kingdom for long, though. You might think my brother's done his time frettin' about our mama, but he's still gonna fret over his sister, and you need to give him what you woulda given me when he comes to you, and we both know you're gonna be his first stop."
She lets a choked sob out, and I know if I continue this conversation I'll lose it, and I need to have my wits about me for this talk with Maverick.
"I love you and I'll call you tomorrow, 'kay?"
"'Kay," she agrees on a final sob.
It damn near kills me, but I end the call and toss the phone in the passenger seat, just in time to downshift and pull Homer down the drive toward home. Both Clay and Maverick are sitting on the front porch, booted feet up against the rail while they move their rocking chairs slowly, appearing relaxed even thought I know it's all for show. I can see, even from my spot parked in front of the house, that Clay knows why I asked both of them here. He's holding himself in a tense way that makes me think he's bracing for Maverick not taking it well. He should give Mav more credit.
"Damn," I hear Maverick call from the porch when I climb out of Homer and shut his door with care. "This Tate's paw's old truck?"
I look up at Maverick and smile with pride. "Maverick, meet Homer."
He lets out a few deep chuckles and ambles down the steps toward me, throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me into his ridiculously tall body, my head smacking against his chest with a groan of protest when I feel his sweaty pit on my shoulder. I tip my head back and look up from my position under his arm and smile at him, then reach up and twist his nipple.
"What the fuck, Hell-raiser?" he grumps.
"What have I told you about puttin' your pits on me!"
He tosses his hands up in exasperation. "I hadn't even been workin' long enough for my shirt to get wet, Quinn!"
"You took a step outside and that's all you need, you big brute."
He lifts his arm and tilts his head to look at the offending pit I'm talking about, and sure enough, the material of his shirt is wet all around it and emanating a distinct odor that ain't none too pleasant. Gross, man.
I turn to see Clay standing stock-still on the top step of the porch. "Hey, big brother," I call up to him.
"You all right, Quinny?" he questions, his eyes searching mine.
"Just wanted to talk to Maverick about somethin'."
"Huh?" Maverick asks, dropping his arm and looking at me apprehensively.
"Where's Tate?" Clay asks. Getting the lay of the land, I'm sure.
"I would reckon at work, seein' as he's got patients all day," I reply smartly.
"He didn't want to come along?"
"Not sure, Clayton, I didn't tell him I was comin', but even if I had told him, he wouldn't have jumped in, knowin' I want to do this alone. For me."
"What the hell are you two goin' on about?" Maverick barks, stepping in between us while looking from Clay to me and back again.
"I'm guessin', Mav, that our big brother is just tryin' to make sure I know what I'm doing--which I do, thank you--before we go talk."
"Talk about what?"
I ignore Maverick's question and move up onto the porch, placing my hands on Clay's shoulders and pulling him down while I lift up on the toes of my boots. I kiss his jaw and lean back to look him in the eye. "I'm okay and I know what I'm doin'. I need to do this part by myself, Clay."
His throat works as he takes a big swallow, but he gives me a nod. I walk around him and into the house, waiting for them to follow me into the living room while I pace in front of the fireplace, my thoughts starting to line up in order with the soothing, repetitive movement.
I stop, turn, and face my brothers, both of whom are standing on the other side of the couch, making no move to actually sit down. Knowing it will be pointless to try and get them to sit and relax, I figure I might as well just go for broke.
"I want you to arrange for me to visit Mama at the facility that you've got her at." I hold Maverick's gaze, my chest heaving while I wait for my request to finish taking root and the shock to clear from his body.
Clay claps him on the back, encouraging him, and gives me another nod to let me know I should keep going.
"I need to let her go, Mav. I need to let myself see that she isn't the fantasy I spent my life dreamin' she would be. I need to tell her I forgive her for bein' selfish and that I'll spend my life makin' sure the man I love always knows I choose him, that I'll never abandon him or us even when things get difficult. I want to look in her eyes, even if she can't hear or understand me, and let her know that when I'm blessed with children one day, not even God himself could tear me away from them. I need to do this so I can take all the pain she made me feel over the years and drop it off with her, where it belongs."
I can see how hard he's working to keep himself in check. His whole body is coiled in an unnaturally tight way that tells me he's about to lose the hold he has on his control.
"And I need you to make those arrangements and then let me go do this without you," I add in a strong voice.
His head drops and I can't see his expression. I shoot my gaze over to Clay, and his impassive face tells me nothing. We stand like this for what feels like forever while Maverick works through what I just told him. I keep looking between Clay and the top of Mav's cowboy hat, my heart in my throat.
I'm about to start panicking that I hurt my brother by asking him to let me do this alone, and then Clay clears his throat.
"Look at me, brother," he tells Maverick, his voice hard but full of respect as he keeps his eyes on me when he says it. When Maverick lifts his head and looks at Clay, only then does Clay look away from me and focus completely on Mav. "You spent a long time keepin' this to yourself, thinkin' you had to in order to keep us from feelin' that pain. You did the right thing by not holdin' that in, no matter how much knowin' why Mama left us stung, but you also gave both of us a chance to move on and heal with that truth. You knew this day would come, but I need you to fight against what's inside you tellin' you to protect Quinn. She's got a damn good man who's doin' that for us
now. We'll always be there just in case, but you gotta let her do this. Don't deny her knowin' she's gotta let go of that hurt in order to move on and find what you got with Leigh."
I can't hold in my emotions now. I know I'm seconds away from breaking out into an ugly cry.
"Fuck!" Maverick bellows, making me jump. A sob escapes my throat, and I hate it for betraying what his silence is making me feel. His eyes shift to me, focusing with a steely force that makes me rock from side to side while I wait under his probing gaze. "You really don't want us there?" he finally asks, and I feel the meaning behind his question right in my heart.
His hushed, defeated tone spurs me into motion, and I breach the distance between us instantly, walking around the couch to stand in front of both my brothers. They normally keep this part of themselves hidden--the vulnerable side that we all share from the bond built among us during our tornadic upbringing. I gaze up at them, hoping that they can stop seeing me as the little sister that they have to guard from pain and set me free--not only by helping me move past what Mama did, but also to build a life with the man that's taken the top spot in my heart.
"I love you both more than you'll ever know, but yes, I need you to let me do this without you. Mav, you've spent enough time cleanin' up her mess, and you don't need to go back to that. Clay'll figure her out on his own time and I know his comin' along would force his hand in dealin' with her before he's ready. And," I sigh and shrug, feeling the power of Tate's love slam into me right when I need it the most, filling me with the words I need to use to make Maverick see. "Tate's here now, and with him I've got my heart back, Mav. He spent a long time missin' that part of me too. You don't live without that for all those years and not want to protect it the best you can. He'll be there to pick me up if I stumble, help heal me if I feel pain, but it's up to me to take this last step and solidify that protection myself. I want to do this for him just as much as I do for myself, so I can move on without her pullin' me back, but I need to do this for me so I can finally let go."
He rocks forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest, where I feel his heart pounding under my head. Clay moves in next, wrapping his strong arms around both of us. I feel my knees buckle when I remember all the times over the years that we would find ourselves in a similar huddle. When we would feel the absence of our mama, not knowing why she didn't love us; when our father would start spewing his hate; or any other time we just needed to draw strength off each other. It was times like this that would make me believe that no matter what life threw at us, the Davis kids always had this. That will never change: even when, years from now, we've built our own families, the core of us will always be here.
"I'll make the call tonight," Maverick mumbles into my hair, still holding me tight.
"Thank you," I tell him, my words muffled against his chest. Pulling the arm smooshed between Clay's stomach at my side, I wrap it around him and hold both my brothers a little tighter. "I love you guys. Thank you for lettin' me go."
Maverick guffaws. "We ain't lettin' you go, Quinny, we're not ever gonna do that, but we'll stand by and let another man--the right man--keep you safe while we support you from the side."
And there go the tears again.
I don't leave for another hour, the three of us not doing any talkin' but piled on the old couch and lettin' a television show be the excuse we give for the delay, when all three of us know we just want to be near each other a little longer.
When I head out, waving out the window of Homer, there's only one place I want to go, and that's into the arms of the man that's helped me get to this place of healing.
The man I love.
25
TATE
"What Ifs" by Kane Brown
- -
"What can I do?" I ask Quinn for the tenth time since we walked into the long-term facility that her mama's been staying at for the past few years.
It's a nice place, to be sure, and for anyone else it would probably scream welcoming and comforting, letting family and friends know that their loved ones are being cared for in an environment they can visually trust.
To me, it feels like hell.
Not because of anything they're doing, but because I can see the nervous fear on Quinn's face as her eyes swing around the room. She's been doing this since the nurse Maverick arranged to meet with us left to go make sure her mama's been moved to a private room where visitors can have a moment with the people they care about without being stuck in a hospital room.
I've got to hand it to the place--from a doctor's standpoint, it's a top-notch facility. It's evident they encourage visitors, seeing that they go to great lengths to ensure a level of comfort in those visits that most long-term care places just aren't financially able to. It tells me that Maverick, despite everything this woman did to her children, didn't spare a single expense when it came to her care.
I'm not sure I would do the same thing if my own mama needed something like this. I haven't spoken to my parents in months, and that will never change. To me, they died nine years ago.
"Do you think I'll recognize her?" she asks, not looking away from the family of four that looks to be sharing a quiet, happy moment on the other side of the waiting room. A young mother with her three small children, in fact. What are the odds?
"I'm not sure, darlin'," I answer honestly, reaching over to take her hand in mine. "There's nothin' wrong with not recognizin' her, Quinn, so stop worryin' yourself over it. You were too young when she left to have a clear picture of her like your brothers do, and you can't fault yourself for not havin' pictures to remember her by."
She looks up, the fear in her eyes making them look murky. "Shouldn't a daughter be able to feel a connection to the woman who birthed her? What if I don't have that?"
I squeeze her hand. "Then you don't, baby. That's not on you. Would you be able to pick your brothers out in a crowd?"
"I could find them with my eyes closed," she confirms breathily.
"Then, Grease, your heart knows what's important."
She nods, looks back at the young family in the corner, and nods again to herself. I leave her to her thoughts and pray that what happens this afternoon doesn't hurt her more than heal.
A week ago, she showed up at the office just after lunch. I was in an examination room with a patient, but Gladys pulled me aside when I stepped out for the woman to get undressed and told me that Quinn was waiting in my office. I could tell by looking at Gladys that whatever brought Quinn here was unusual. Gladys looked troubled and concerned.
I don't think I've ever finished a yearly exam quicker. Even my nurse, Rebecca, looked at me like I was insane.
I found Quinn smiling through her tears in my office, and after I frantically tried to get out of her what was going on, she said she went to see Maverick and that he was on board with her seeing their mama and would set things up.
By the next day, I'd rescheduled my patients and made all the travel arrangements. Quinn hadn't wanted to wait, but I purposely set up a weeklong gap between her talk with Maverick and us getting to California so that she'd have time to really make sure this was what she wanted. I didn't do it to talk her out of it, but to give her a safety net if she wanted it.
Clearly she didn't, because we're sitting in the middle of a Los Angeles facility for the mentally ill and those medically incapable of caring for themselves.
"Ms. Davis?" the nurse calls, pulling me from my thoughts, and I stand quickly as Quinn scrambles nervously to her feet. She reaches behind her, blindly searching for my hand, and I instantly grab hold and tighten my grip. "We've got your mother ready in the green room. It's one of the favorites amongst our patients. Nice and soothing, with a tropical theme."
Quinn hums in acknowledgment but doesn't speak. I can feel a slight tremble in her hand, and I know I need to do something to ease her mind before she walks into the unknown.
"I don't know how much your brother told you about your mother's health. I've been here for
about two years and I wish I could say things were better, but she's gotten a lot weaker lately. She won't be able to talk to you, but I assure you that she can hear what you're saying. She's quite the fighter, that one," the nurse recites in a monotone, as though she's rehearsed this speech a thousand times before.
I don't roll my eyes, but inside I'm ashamed that this woman can't at least act like she isn't reading a manual on how to deal with patients' families. I know just how bad off Quinn's mother is, because I had Maverick get her medical history sent to me. Her liver and kidneys are failing. Her heart is weak. Her lungs keep filling with fluid. She's on dialysis and taking heavy narcotics for the constant pain she feels, and her last checkup showed signs of dementia.
She is, in simple terms, a mess.
"Can we have a moment please?" I ask the nurse when she brings us to a stop in front of the green door.
"Of course," she says with a fake-as-hell smile, not looking me in the eye. "When you're ready, just head in. If you need anything, let us know. I do need to make you aware that sometimes Mrs. Davis gets . . . agitated. Don't be alarmed if that happens. Just press the red button directly next to the bathroom door and we'll be right there."
"We've got it covered," I tell her impatiently.
I wait for her to walk to the nurses' station five doors down, giving us her back while she talks to some of the other nurses seated behind the desk. Then I turn to Quinn and wish I could erase this whole visit from her mind.
"I want you to listen to me, Grease." I search her eyes and hold both her hands in my own. "Whatever happens in there, I want you to remember that the family that matters to you is waitin' for you back in Pine Oak. Your brothers and Leigh, they care about you so much there isn't anything they wouldn't do for you. Their unconditional love, understandin', and support will always be there for you. And baby, you've got me. There's nothin' in the world I wouldn't do for you. You didn't need that woman in there to mold you into the bright, compassionate, and lovin' woman that you are today, and when you walk out that door later, you damn sure aren't gonna need her then. Don't forget that. You're loved, baby, more than you could ever imagine."