by Jamie Pope
Cora looked exactly the same as she had when he went to get Cassandra a few months ago, the same as he remembered her from when he was a kid. Beautiful and elegant, full of class and grace. It was Dr. Smith who had changed. His hair was white. His face had aged more than it should have. He was still handsome, still stood proudly, but he didn’t seem as large as he used to be. And even from the porch Wylie could see the exhaustion in his face. Not tired from a lack of sleep, but weary, bone-tired, from having your only child, your pride and joy, slip away from you.
“Mom? Dad?”
They both turned to look at her, neither one of them moving for a moment, just staring. She looked so different from that skinny, pale, nearly lifeless woman she was when she came here. She wore a cranberry-colored dress, which fit snuggly against her now-curvy body, her skin was glowing due to the pregnancy, and her short curls were shiny and healthy. She was a new woman.
“My good Lord,” Miss Cora said breathily. She unfroze in that moment, rushing to the porch, grabbing Cassandra up in the tightest of hugs, but Cass never let go of his hand, her grip getting tighter as her mother hugged her. “You’re beautiful, baby girl.” She ran her hands over her cheeks. “And you’ve cut your hair! I love it. You look like a whole new person.”
“I missed you, Mom,” she said as the tears streamed down her face.
“I missed you too.” She wiped away Cassandra’s tears as her own started to fall. “None of that now. This is a happy time. Oh, Wylie James, look at you. More handsome than the Devil.” She hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“I should thank you. I think I needed her more than she needed me.”
Dr. Smith was walking toward them now, his steps slow, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face. “Cassandra,” he said when he finally reached her. “You’re lovely.” He hugged her, not the fierce hug his wife had given her, but it was more affection than Wylie had ever seen father and daughter exchange.
“I’m happy here,” she told him when she pulled away. “I’m happy here with Wylie.”
Cassandra wrapped her arms around him then, resting her head on his chest, making it clear that they were together. He wished he could have been this brave before. He wished he could have not cared what Harmony Falls thought of them before. It would have saved a hell of a lot of heartbreak.
“How are you, sir?” He extended his hand.
“You’ve done well for yourself, son.” He looked at the house, and his eyes did not miss a single detail. “It seems you’ve done well for my daughter too.”
“I love her.” He locked eyes with Dr. Smith. “But you already knew that.”
He nodded. “I did.”
Another car pulled into the driveway, one that Wylie didn’t recognize. At first he ignored it, thinking that it was somebody just turning around in his driveway. But the car came to a stop and the doors opened.
He heard Cassandra gasp, her grip tightening on him. He froze too, his blood rushing through his head, his thoughts slowing down.
It was Terrance who got out of that car. Only it couldn’t be him. He knew that, but he felt as if he were staring at a ghost.
Chapter 20
Her knees buckled, and the air whooshed right out of her lungs. Terrance was there, standing fifty feet in front of her, looking the way he did on the day he died. But as he walked closer, as the man’s features became clearer and her eyes cleared of tears, she saw that it wasn’t her husband, but her father-in-law.
“Do you need to sit down, honey?” Wylie whispered. His lips were on her ear; his hand was on her back; his arm was wrapped around her. He was the reason she was still standing. Somehow he became her backbone.
“No, no, I . . .” She couldn’t take her eyes off Eric. Terrance definitely looked like his father—same walk, same chocolate-colored skin, same long, straight nose—but Eric looked like a distinguished man in his sixties. The sides of his hair had gone completely gray since the last time she had seen him. He wore khakis and a suit coat over his expensive button-down shirt, and Cassandra knew that if her husband had lived, he would have looked like this one day.
Would have.
If he had lived.
“I know this must be a shock to you,” Eric said when he finally reached them. “But Thanksgiving has been hard. Holidays . . . everything has been hard without him, without you. It’s empty. And even though he is gone, you are still our family and we love you. I know we are intruding, but we wanted to see you. Patricia is in the car.” He glanced behind him. “She won’t come out unless it’s okay with you. We’ll go if you want us to, but we had to see you. We had to know that you’re okay.”
She couldn’t see again. Her throat burned and her eyes were clouded with tears. She tried to hold them back, to blink them away, but it was impossible.
“Of course you can stay,” Wylie said, his slow, Southern-accented voice grounding her once again. “If Cass could talk, she would tell you that.”
“Is that right, Cassandra?” Eric Miller looked to her for confirmation. He looked to her with hope in his eyes.
She nodded; it was all she could do in that moment.
“Is it all right if I hug you?”
She couldn’t even make herself nod that time. She just let go of Wylie and let herself collapse into her father-in-law’s arms as a sob tore from her throat. Eric looked like Terrance, but he wasn’t. He was quieter, a more gentle spirit, more stoic. She had always loved him. She had tried not to think about him during her grief. It was too much: his only son, his prize, the person he was most proud of.
“You’ll make yourself sick, Cassandra. Hush now.” He smoothed a hand over her back. “And I was just getting ready to tell you how pretty you are. You don’t want to ruin that with a blotchy face, now do you?”
“I’m so sorry,” she managed to choke out.
“For what?”
For surviving. It was an ugly thought, a nasty thought. One that ran through her mind a thousand times a day when she was in her deepest mourning. It wasn’t true. She looked back at Wylie, remembered the baby she had growing inside her. She was glad to be alive. Finally. She had reasons to live, to be happy. She loved again, when before the only thing she had ever thought she would feel again was pain.
“For getting you all wet.”
“Don’t worry about that.” He smiled gently at her before he turned his gaze to Wylie. “How are you, son?”
“I’m very well, sir. Thank you.” Wylie held himself stiffly. He stood back a little ways away from them. It was like they were kids again, and he was just on the edges of the family. But they weren’t kids anymore. And they were all at his house and Wylie was now her family.
“Won’t you call me Eric? If you don’t, I’ll have to go around calling you Master Sergeant Everett, and I think that’s a little formal.”
“You know my rank, sir?”
“I know your rank. I know you’re decorated. I know that you were awarded for bravery twice—once in Iraq and once in Afghanistan. I know that you have risked your life more times for this country than anyone can ask. And I know that I am extremely proud of you.”
Cassandra watched as the emotion swelled in Wylie’s eyes, but he held it back. “I appreciate that, sir. I mean, Mr. Miller. I mean, Eric.”
“You’re a good man.” He touched Wylie’s cheek, just like a father would touch his son. “I wish I could take more credit for it.”
A car door slamming distracted them from the moment. Patricia Miller had gotten out of the car. She was much thinner than the last time Cassandra had seen her. She was birdlike, her face was pinched like there was an unpleasant odor in the air. She had aged twenty years in the last twelve months. The grief was clearly still with her, and Cassandra knew it was the kind of grief that would never let her out of its grip.
“Hello, Cassandra,” she said when she came to stand beside her husband. “I see you are doing well.”
“I’m mu
ch better, thank you.”
Her eyes went to Wylie, and the distaste was clear, and for a moment Cassandra was sure she wasn’t going to acknowledge him. “Hello, Mrs. Miller.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek, causing the woman to stiffen. “I’m so glad you are here to see my home.”
She looked around her, her eyes critically taking everything in. “Yes, it’s nice. In a quaint little way.”
Cassandra’s hands curled into fists. She and her mother-in-law had never been close, because she hated the way she treated Wylie when they were kids, as if he were their servant. And even after he was gone and they were adults, she wasn’t warm or even kind. She wondered how such a woman could raise a man like Terrance, who loved deeply in his own way. And now here she was disrespecting Wylie’s home, their home. And for what? Because it didn’t belong to her son.
“We’ll be staying in town so we don’t disturb whatever it is you have going on here. I didn’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not intruding,” Wylie said, still being the bigger man. “Please come inside. I know you’ve had a long trip and I would love to take you out to lunch.”
“Oh, that would be great!” Eric clapped Wylie on the back as he gave his wife a pointed look. “We passed a little seafood shack on the way. Do you think they are still open?”
“Yes,” Cassandra’s father agreed. “I would love some fried clams.”
* * *
Wylie hadn’t known what to expect when Cassandra’s parents had arrived. He thought that it would be awkward, that today would be tense. And it was, but not in the way he had expected.
Cassandra’s parents had been extremely kind to him, Cora praising all the work he had done on the house. Dr. Smith asked to see his medals. Even Thanksgiving dinner had gone well. Tanner had come over with one of the guys on their crew. Nova brought Mansi and Teo over to celebrate. The food had been excellent. Cass and Nova had handled most of the cooking. Everyone seemed to be relaxed, except for Patricia. She picked over her food, sitting quietly beside her husband with her head held high, as if she were too good for the food and the company. He tried to ignore her, but he knew it was getting to Cass, who tensed at every picky comment the woman made. She had never been easy to live with, but there was definitely a change in her since Terrance had died. He could see the thought on her face every time he looked at her: Why did you have to live when he had to die?
He had asked himself that same question. He could have died. He almost died, but he hadn’t.
And as he looked at Teo in deep conversation with Cassandra’s mother, and his sister laughing with Cass as they did the dishes, and Mansi playing cards with Dr. Smith and Mr. Miller, he knew that he had a lot of reasons to live. He had a lot of things to be proud of.
“That’s it, woman!” Mr. Miller—Eric, he was still having a hard time thinking of him that way—threw down his cards and sat back in his chair. “You are going to bankrupt me. How did you learn to play poker like that?”
“Oh, sweet cheeks,” she said, playfully pinching his face, “I wish I could tell you. But if you don’t want to play for cash anymore, we can play for clothes.”
“Old woman,” Wylie warned.
“She’s just having fun, son.” Eric got up from his spot at the dining-room table and walked over to him.
It was weird to hear him call him “son.” It was weird for him to be there. Growing up, Wylie had felt close to the man. It was his advice he sought when he was troubled. It was Eric who treated him kindly and took him in when his wife didn’t want that. It was also Eric who told him to stay away from Cassandra, who wounded him when he told him he wasn’t right for her. The seeds of his self-doubt were staring him in the face.
“Are you enjoying yourself here?” Wylie asked him.
“Yes, it’s beautiful.” He smiled gently at him. “And so are your little sister and her family. I’m so glad you found them again.”
“They’re the only family I’ve got. So I’ve got to keep them close, no matter what.”
The smiled melted from his face. “We never put you out. You separated yourself from us.”
“What was I supposed to do when you told me that I wasn’t right for Cassandra, that she needed Terrance in her life to be truly happy?” He lowered his voice so his other guests wouldn’t hear. “You said that I couldn’t live up to Terrance. And after we got into that fight and I had come to you, you said that I betrayed you and your son. How the hell was I supposed to interpret that?”
“I—I . . .”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to help Cass out in the kitchen.”
He walked away from him and into the kitchen, his head throbbing and his chest hurting. He had put all of that out of his head. He had tried to, at least. He had spent ten years of his life loving the Millers, just to have them turn on him. He almost didn’t blame them. Blood was thicker than water after all. But it still hurt.
“What’s the matter, Wylie James?” Cass dropped the dishcloth that she was holding and hugged him close. “Is it that mean woman? You want me to throw her out?”
“You can’t throw her out.” He kissed her lips. “It’s Thanksgiving. Besides, she doesn’t bother me.”
“She should.” She reached up to run her fingers through his hair and he shut his eyes, enjoying the way her nails felt on his scalp. “You should be proud of all of this. I hope you are. This place is beautiful. You’re not that same kid with no place to go.”
“If I hadn’t had ‘no place to go,’ I wouldn’t have met you.”
“Ugh.” Nova shut off the sink and threw down her sponge. “Do you two have to be so in love all the time? It makes my damn stomach churn.”
“You want some love too, little sis? Come here.” He extended an arm to her.
“I’d rather jump into an icy lake than get between you-all’s love fest.”
“Forget you then.” He turned his attention back to Cass. “You feeling okay?” He rubbed her belly. She wasn’t showing through her clothes yet, but he could see the roundness forming when she was nude. He made her stay that way for a long time this morning. He couldn’t stop staring at her, at the life she was carrying. He was going to be a father, the love he felt for someone who wasn’t even fully formed yet was overwhelming.
“I’m fine. I just ate too much.”
“You’ve been on your feet all day. Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll finish cleaning up?”
“I’m fine.” She placed her hand over his as he rubbed. “I told my mother we would have a bonfire on the beach in a little while.”
He nodded and kissed the side of her face. “Let me know if you get too tired.”
“I will.”
“Cassandra!” Nova called to her. “You’re pregnant!”
“Hush!” Wylie hissed at her. “Nobody knows yet, and how the hell did you guess?”
“You’re rubbing her belly and treating her like she is going to break. Not to mention that mushy you-are-my-everything look you’ve been giving her all day. That’s not the way to go if you want to hide a pregnancy.”
“You’re right.” Cass looked up at Wylie and then back to Nova. “That’s why I snapped at you and stole your kid that day. I had just found out I was pregnant after I thought it might never happen again. I’m really sorry for what I said, Nova. I was going through some stuff.”
“You’ve apologized to me already, Cass,” she said softly. “And I understand how it is to find out you’re pregnant when you least expect it. You don’t need to say any more than that.”
She nodded. “I do. I love you. You should know that. You’re my best friend.”
“Oh, shut up now.” Nova shut her eyes, hiding the tears that had formed. “I’m not going to blubber like a baby today because of you. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. Your brother wants to marry me too.” She rested her face against Wylie’s chest and grinned. “You think I should?”
“It depends. How big is the ring?”
* * *
Every star was visible in the sky that night. The air was cold, but the fire was warm. As the waves crashed against the shore, Cass found the entire evening soothing. It helped that Wylie was behind her, with a blanket wrapped around both of them. His hands were on her belly again, but they were hidden from their guests this time.
He was going to be a good father. There was no doubt in her mind about that. She was happy to be pregnant the last time she found out, but she was truthfully more hopeful than happy. Hopeful that the baby could bring some closeness between her and her husband. It was foolish to put that much pressure on an unborn child. She had gone into the marriage for the wrong reasons. She knew that now; and as much as she wanted to blame Terrance for not telling her what really happened, she couldn’t. It was her fault too. She was just sad that Terrance hadn’t had the happiness he deserved.
She felt different this time, with this baby. She had a lot of hopes pinned on this child too, but different ones. Hopes that it would be happy and healthy, hopes that it would grow up to be strong and loving, like his or her father was. They were unselfish hopes this time.
“Are you cold?” Wylie asked with a kiss to her hair.
“Not as long as you stay here.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
She looked up and caught the Millers staring at them—Mr. Miller with gentle wonder, Mrs. Miller with disdain. It made her feel uneasy, guilty. Was it wrong to be enjoying herself when Terrance couldn’t? Was it wrong to openly love another man in front of them?
Part of her, a big part of her, felt like it was. But she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t hide her love anymore. It would be unfair to Wylie, who felt so insecure about himself back then that he didn’t want anyone to know. She used to hate him for that, but now she understood why. Now she understood that no matter how much they loved each other back then, they would have never lasted. Wylie had to find his own way, become his own man. And she had to go on her own journey.
“Cassandra.” Eric smiled at her from across the fire. “Your mother tells me you’re working at a cultural center.”