by Celeste, B.
My brows raise in skepticism.
He chuckles. “I know people think I’m an asshole, kid. Truth is, I just want to see things done right. I enjoy what I do. Film directors hire me for smaller side jobs during the summers, and I have my own contracting business that takes up most of my other time.”
“So, you’re like … successful?”
He grins. “Something like that.”
Picking off my crust, I set it on the table and glance up at him again. He’s watching me with an amused smile on my face. “What?” I ask, brows pinching.
“My daughter does the same thing.”
I gape. “You have a daughter?”
He nods once. “Probably a few years younger than you. She never liked crust, so she’d sneak it to the dog when she thought nobody was watching.”
When I was little, I used to sneak my crust to the dogs my foster parents had. After moving in with the James’, Oliver would eat them for me.
“There are many kinds of loves out there, but it’s the real thing that’s hard to find, because it’s extremely rare,” he tells me in an uncharacteristically soft tone. “Sometimes you meet that one person in your life who holds all of that love for you and then some.”
But how could that be Everett to me?
“Could those people hurt you?”
He taps the edge of the table. “They’re the only ones who have the power to hurt us. But it’s only us who has the power to forgive.”
39
Everett / 27
When five o’clock rolls around I notice Robert’s office light is still on. Usually, he’s gone by four thirty to have dinner with Bridgette. After locking up my office door, I make my way toward his. Stuffing one of my hands into the pockets of my black slacks, I rap my knuckles against the glass.
Absentmindedly, he glances up at me, then down at the small clock sitting on the edge of his desk. His brows draw up as if he’s surprised it’s so late already.
Walking in, I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb. “I thought you’d be home by now. I know Bridgette makes pot roast for you on Wednesdays.”
A ghost smile appears on his face. “I suppose I lost track of time. I’m sure she’s wondering where I am.”
Nodding, I press my lips together. I should probably go too, not that I have anyone waiting up for me. The cabin will be empty and quiet, two things I’ve grown accustomed to but still don’t like. Isabel brought noise in to my life, a distraction. I’m glad we’ve parted ways, but it makes the demons taunt me in louder voices.
He leans far enough back in his chair that it squeaks under his weight. His arms rest crossed on his chest as he studies me. “Is there something on your mind, Everett?”
There’s been something on my mind for nearly two months now. Shit, for years. But I’ve kept my distance from Robert because I thought that’s what he wanted. He hasn’t reached out to me, scolded me, or told me off about sleeping with his daughter. We’re strictly business like he is with the rest of his employees.
Not having Robert around is like losing my father again.
Clearing my throat, I push myself off the doorjamb and walk further into his office. “I, uh, thought maybe we could talk? I owe you an apology.”
One of his gray brows arches, but he remains silent. Dropping onto the leather chair across from him, I tap my fingers against the smooth material coating the arm.
“I love River, sir.” It might not be the best way to start the conversation, but it’s straight to the point. I know how much Robert likes that. “I won’t apologize for that, but I will apologize for what I’ve put her through. As well as you and Bridgette.”
His palm scrapes against his jaw. “I’ve known about your feelings for quite some time, son. If you expect surprise from me, you won’t get it.”
I blink. “You knew?”
He chuckles, straightening up and linking his fingers together to rest them on the desk. “I suppose you wouldn’t remember the night you told me you loved my daughter. You were about three sheets to the wind when you dialed me to come get you.”
What? I haven’t drank since …
He fills in the gaps. “It was about, oh, six years ago or so when I got a call from you. It was nearing midnight, if I remember, because the wife asked where I was going so late. I just told her you needed me and went to the bar you said you were at. The bartender was pouring you another drink, but I took it from you because the last thing you needed was more alcohol. You looked rough, Everett. I thought it was because it was almost the anniversary of your grandfather’s death, but you’ve never let yourself go even after he first died.
“When I paid the tab and got you out of there, you were rambling on about things that made no sense to me—something about Isabel. I managed to get you back to my place, down a few glasses of water, before you told me what had happened to the two of you. Now, I’ve never told you how sorry I am for your loss. Figured you wouldn’t remember telling me anyway, and you never spoke of it since. But, for the record, I am sorry. Losing a child in any form is … it’s a tough thing to cope with. I don’t think you know this, but Bridgette and I had many of the same experiences trying to have children before we decided to adopt.”
I didn’t know that. When Gianna Allen fell asleep next to Isabel at our apartment after I brought her home from the hospital, I snuck out to go to the bar. I let them be and left to get out of my head. I don’t remember calling Robert or telling him anything. In fact, the last thing I remember is waking up on the couch at my apartment. Issy and her mother were both still sleeping in our bed, curled up next to each other in an embrace only two mothers would understand.
“I was getting you some aspirin when you told me you loved River. You said, ‘I’m sad, Robert. Not just for the Issy and the baby, but for River.’ And I asked why you’d be sad for her, you told me it was because you loved her, but you couldn’t be with her.”
My throat tightens and heart drums rapidly in my chest. I told River’s father that I loved her. Jesus.
He lets out a heavy sigh, glancing toward the wall at nothing in particular. “You told me that you made a promise to Isabel you wouldn’t break, which meant loving River was impossible.”
Leaning my elbows on my knees, I bend forward and place my face in my open palms. Why the hell would I admit that to him? And why wouldn’t he tell me about this sooner? He’s been holding this back for six years, for Christ’s sake.
Robert’s calm tone breaks me out of my thoughts. “Jack used to tell me that promises are the foundation of any good relationship—it could have been anything from romance to business.”
Jack. My father.
“You never talk about him,” I murmur quietly, peering up at him.
He shrugs. “Honestly, son, I didn’t think you’d be ready to hear the stories. Jack Tucker was a good man. He never let anybody down because he lived off fulfilling those promises. But you know what, Everett? I never believed the same things he did. Promises aren’t what make the foundations of good relationships, commitment is. We can promise people anything, stretch ourselves thin to maintain them, and then waste away from guilt when they can’t be achieved. You can’t promise people anything, son. You’re setting yourself up for disappointment, for failure. Sometimes it takes more than that to prove what you’re willing to do for a person.”
His words strike me silent, as I lean back in the chair until I’m staring at him in wonder. If anyone knows my dad, it’s Robert James. And if Robert can admit that my father’s methods of life were less than realistic, then maybe I can too. At this point, I have to. I’ve lived my whole life believing Tuckers have to keep every promise they make.
I promised my grandma I wouldn’t steal cookies from the jar at night. I promised my grandfather I wouldn’t sneak out to meet up with girls after I turned fifteen. I promised my parents that I would make them proud.
Even before breaking my promise to Isabel, I knew that some were impossible to keep.
; “As for River,” he adds, voice firmer than it was before, “She made her own choices. I know my daughter, Everett. The things she chooses to do are thought out and based on emotion. I wish I could say logic played a hand in what you two conspired in, but she tends to think with her heart. That makes her vulnerable, in many ways, but it also makes her strong. I’m not saying that I disapprove of you two being together, I think I’ve always expected it to turn out that way, but I’d like to see you two be there for one another in better pretenses.”
“What do you mean?”
He grabs a stack of papers and slips them into his bag. “She’s in California to figure out exactly what she wants from a clear perspective. Sometimes, distance is a blessing in disguise. It makes us realize who we need in our lives and who we don’t. I have no doubt in my mind she’ll be back here soon enough for more reasons than just seeing us again. I just hope when she comes back, she’s ready to face the consequences. Bridgeport isn’t a forgiving town, son. People will talk about this for a long time. If you two really want to be together, if this type of love is the real thing, you need to be prepared. She’s been through enough as it is, so I worry how she’ll cope.”
River is stronger than anybody here gives her credit for. I don’t promise him I’ll protect her through the chaos. I don’t even promise him that everything will be okay.
Promises mean nothing.
“River will prove to us all how strong she really is,” I finally settle on, nodding once to my own statement. “And I will be there every step of the way, because we’re in this together.”
He stands, grabbing his black messenger bag and slipping the strap over his shoulder. “To us, you’ve always been family, Everett. We’d be glad to have you as part of it permanently. Frankly, I can’t think of one person who’d be better for her.”
He holds out his hand to me and I take it. I guess the James and Tucker families were always meant to be together in one form or another. When River is ready to come back, I just need to prove it to her.
40
River / 23
After the crew celebrates the final official filming day on set with cake, pizza, and beer that Steph says tastes like watered down piss, everyone starts saying their goodbyes. There aren’t many people I feel emotional over never seeing again, but I can tell that isn’t the same for everyone else. They’ve become a family during the past year of filming.
I’ve only known the set crew for about two months, and Briggs is the only one I talk to for more than two minutes. Occasionally, we eat lunch together and chat about random things. He tells me about his daughter, Maci, and I tell him about the kids I teach back in Bridgeport. He tells me more about how he met his wife, and I tell him about how painting became my first real love.
Briggs doesn’t ask about Everett, so I don’t really offer him any information. What can I say? If he knew the truth, that Everett is engaged and having a baby with the woman I cheated with him on, he’ll probably see me differently. I don’t want to risk him thinking of me in a bad light, especially because he’s become like family to me. He doesn’t judge me about being adopted or the scars that sometimes peek out of the thin shirts I wear to keep cool.
He always says, “We all have pasts, kid,” and then keeps doing whatever we’re doing at the time. Usually eating. We both love peanut butter, even though he refuses to dip apples into it.
Briggs is in the corner of the air-conditioned room all by himself when I approach him. He looks like his broody self, but I can tell that he’s going to miss it here.
“You should be over with the youth celebrating,” is how he greets me. I don’t listen to him and lean against the wall, watching everyone else like him.
Shrugging, I glance back at him. “I don’t really know anybody, and I don’t drink. The cake wasn’t bad though. Did you get a piece? It’s marble, but I mostly ate the chocolate chunks.”
That makes him chuckle. “Yeah, I got some. More of a vanilla man, myself.”
My nose scrunches. Everett is too.
I’m not sure why I think of him all of a sudden, but his image sticks with me. Everett eats chocolate if I’m the one who requests it, like when Darlene makes cupcakes or cookies for my birthday, but he’s like Oliver and prefers vanilla otherwise.
“What’s the look for?” Briggs gestures to my nose, which I realize is still scrunched up.
“Vanilla is so boring. Everett, uh, my friend likes it.”
He cracks a grin. “Your friend, huh?”
Blushing, I brush my hair behind my ear.
“I like your hair that way better,” he states, changing the subject. He doesn’t need to ask who Everett is, he obviously knows. “It doesn’t look like you’re trying to be someone else. Honestly thought about bringing baby wipes to clean off all that makeup when I first saw you.”
My lips part in hurt. I didn’t think the makeup was awful, just overdone. “Did I look that bad?”
He shakes his head. “Not bad, just not you. And before you go and tell me that I don’t know who you even are, I know you well enough to see you’re more comfortable like this. If you were my daughter, I would tell you that you don’t need all that other stuff. It just hides all the shit that doesn’t need to be hidden.”
Instinct has me touching my bottom lip.
He notices. “I don’t mean your scar, kid. People around here play dress up to become somebody they’re not so people like them. You’ve got that natural essence about you where you don’t need all of that to impress people.”
“You’re just saying that.”
He deadpans. “Have I ever been known to bullshit anybody?”
I guess he has a point. “Well … thanks.”
He just nods his head. Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I excuse myself and study the unknown number across the screen before answering.
“Hello?”
“River?” It’s a woman’s voice.
“Yes?”
“It’s me. I-It’s your mom.”
I freeze mid-step. Steph looks up and notices my stricken expression, coming over and brushing my arm with her hand.
“How did you get this number?”
“I have my ways, just like you.” There’s something off about her voice, but I can’t pinpoint it. It sounds shaky, like she’s nervous or … I don’t want to think of what else. “Baby, I just wanted to talk to you. They won’t tell me where you are. Where did you go? Don’t you want to see me?”
Steph’s eyes pin me down, silently asking who it is.
“Who won’t tell you where I am?” I force myself to ask, worried that I left my real family in the dark about her presence in Bridgeport.
I was stupid to think I could pretend she didn’t exist, like she wasn’t there. But she wants something, or she wouldn’t keep reaching out.
She huffs out in disgruntlement. “The people who think they have a right to claim you. You’re part of a very important family, River, but you’re still my daughter. Don’t forget that.”
“I am not your daughter.” My voice cracks and leaves Steph gaping at me, then quickly taking my hand in comfort. “The James’ are good people. They took care of me and loved me when nobody else would. They’re my family, which means they have every right to claim me.”
Briggs comes over when he hears me raise my voice. He studies Steph and me but keeps an eye on my watery gaze.
“I just want to get to know you like they do, baby. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Why now?” I whisper.
“When I heard your new daddy’s people were looking for me, I decided to check out the man who spent all that money to find one little person.” She laughs, but it’s distant and chaotic, and I know there’s something not right. “You have money now, River. But trust me, people like that can easily throw you out when they get tired of you.”
Nausea sweeps through me. “The James’ would never do that to me. Just because people like them hurt you in the p
ast doesn’t mean I’ll suffer the same way.”
“Don’t be stupid,” she snaps. “I may not have raised you, but I refuse to be related to somebody who’s that naïve. We’re not that different, baby. You and I come from the same background. We do what we need to in order to survive. Those people—”
“Stop calling them that!”
“Tell me where you are,” she says, suddenly sounding desperate. “I didn’t travel all this way for you to leave me. You wanted to see me, remember? You had people snooping around me and it ruined everything. I can’t leave without getting something in return. Payback.”
My eyes widen. “Payback for what?”
“I’ve been surviving just fine in the dark until those uppity men came sniffing around. The people they found me with aren’t too happy with me, River. That’s your fault. So now, you need to help your mommy out. I know your family has money.”
I stop breathing.
I stop thinking.
I just … stop.
The woman who I broke down in front of Robert over is everything I feared she was. Heartless. Manipulative. Foster kids like to pretend their biological parents are royalty when they have no clue where they come from. But the reality is usually always the same. My mother is no princess, she’s the witch.
Steph uses my shocked stature to peel the cell out of my hand. “Listen here and listen good. I don’t care who you are, you have no right to call River out of the blue like this. If you reach out one more time, there will be consequences. Leave River, and the James family, alone.”
She hangs up and then slides the phone into her purse. I’m vaguely aware of Briggs and her asking if I’m all right. I think I nod, but I’m not sure.
Disappointment drowns out the contentment I was feeling when the party started. I’ve felt it before when I thought about my mother but could never figure out why. I never knew her; never knew she could be so cold. I only ever had the things Jill told me about her to go off of.
“So that was your mom?”