Holding On

by Lisa Mills

  Janna caught her hand before she closed the door and gave it one last squeeze. “Drive safe, and take care of yourself.”

  “Bye, guys,” Danielle called, trying to force some cheer into her tone and failing.

  A turn of the key brought the engine roaring to life. With a rumble and a little shaking, the truck slid into gear and inched out of the driveway. Trevor rolled down his window and hung as far out as his seatbelt would allow. “Bye, Cory! Goodbye!” His cheerful tone made it sound as if he were leaving on a grand adventure.

  Danielle focused on the road, hoping he wouldn’t be disappointed. Indiana held a lot of promises for a brighter future, but the potential for disaster lurked there as well. The way her luck usually played out, flipping a coin might have offered them better odds.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Danielle felt every mile of the long drive in her aching shoulders as she entered the final leg of their journey. She’d been driving all day and her body was complaining about being behind the wheel so long. Despite her weariness, she wasn’t all that eager to reach a destination. Endless miles of gray asphalt passed smoothly under the wheels of the truck and soothed her thoughts with the hypnotic sameness. Here on the road, she didn’t have to think. She didn’t have to cope. She only had to drive.

  “Look how big that tractor is, Mom!” Trevor turned away from the passenger-side window for a brief second to make sure she was paying attention. “What kind of plant is in that field?”

  Danielle smiled at him, then darted a glance at the field. “I think that’s soybeans, sweetie.”

  He grinned, showing the gap in his teeth. “Does my grandma and grandpa have a field?”

  “No, they live in town in a neighborhood.”

  “Are there other kids … like Cory?”

  She heard the uncertainty in his voice, the plea for reassurance. “No one exactly like Cory, but I’m sure you’ll make friends. Near the house there’s a park with slides where the kids go to play.”

  “Can Grandma take me?” A happy light glowed from his eyes.

  “I’m sure she’d like that.” He seemed excited about the prospect of meeting his grandparents and living near family. She hoped he wasn’t disappointed. “Hey, it’s nearing sunset. Watch the tree line at the back of the field. You might see some deer coming out of the woods.”

  Wide-eyed delight flashed across his face before he turned back to the window and pressed his nose to the glass.

  The ever-changing scenery along the highway had provided more than enough interesting sights to keep Trevor entertained. His happy exclamations and curious observations had amused Danielle for the first few hours, but then his continued enthusiasm began to chafe at her, reminding her how little of the world he’d seen due to their limited budget. Vacations were nearly impossible, both for the cost and the time away from her desk. It saddened her to realize that it had taken leukemia and the threat of homelessness to take her son on a trip and show him what the world was like outside of the Florida Panhandle. As soon as Trevor had a clean bill of health, she was going to find a way to take him on a kid’s dream vacation. It was the least he deserved.

  When she finally drove into town late in the evening, the sun was hovering on the horizon, staining the low-slung clouds brilliant shades of orange and pink. In the fading light, the quaint little town had taken on a sleepy look, stillness hovering over the streets and yards, people inside at the late hour. Here and there, porch lights blinked off, letting the darkness have the night as residents took to bed. She glanced at the dashboard clock and hoped she wasn’t disrupting her parents’ schedule by rolling into town after ten o’clock.

  Danielle turned onto her parents’ street and slowed the truck to a crawl.

  “Is this it, Mom? Are we here?” Trevor wiggled in his excitement, eager to meet his grandparents after years of family deprivation.

  “Almost.” Her parents’ house came into view.

  “Look!” Trevor pointed, a wide grin stretching across his face. Twinkling Christmas lights wrapped two of the porch columns and framed the “Welcome Home” banner that hung between them. A bit of the tension in her shoulders eased as worries about the warmth of their reception faded.

  Danielle looked for a place to park and was glad to see they’d left room in the driveway for the truck. With a firm grip on the big steering wheel, she guided it into the drive. The engine rumbled loud in the quiet night, then gasped and fell into deafening quiet as she turned the key. “We’re here, but let’s be quiet. The neighbors might be sleeping already, ‘kay?”

  Trevor nodded, unclasping his seatbelt then reaching for the backpack he’d stowed between their two seats.

  Moist July heat greeted her when she opened the truck door, bringing with it the scent of wet grass and damp clay earth, the smell that followed an Indiana rain shower. A noisy cricket chirped in greeting as they followed the walkway toward the house.

  When they reached the front steps, the door clicked open. Danielle’s mother stepped into the rectangle of light cast onto the porch floor. She looked like a modern June Cleaver in tan capris and a stylish t-shirt with a delicate filigree design printed around the neckline. Her blond hair was swept back off her forehead, fastened with a clip, and the ends curled under so they brushed her shoulders. “You’re here!” she said, her voice almost musical with delight.

  Trevor slid his hand into Danielle’s as they climbed the steps and crossed the porch. He pressed against her side and tucked his face half behind her elbow, showing some timidity. She gave him an encouraging smile before she focused on her mom. “Sorry we’re late. We hit some construction, and traffic was moving slow for a while.”

  “No problem. We’re just glad you’re here now. Come in … both of you.” She looked down at Trevor as she offered the invitation.

  He shifted until the light of the doorway illuminated his sweet features.

  A maternal sigh, filled with awe and longing, escaped Karen Jordan’s lips. She leaned down until her face was closer to his level. “Trevor, I’m your Grammy Karen.” Her voice wavered on the words as if she was fighting for control of her emotions.

  Danielle squeezed his hand and gave him a gentle nudge forward. He stepped out from behind her elbow and looked up at his grandmother. “Hi,” he said in a timid voice. Then as if remembering a long-ago manners lesson, he added, “Nice to meet you.”

  Her mother’s face split into a wide grin, her pink lips parting around white teeth. “It’s better than nice to meet you.” She reached out a hand toward him and gently brushed his cheek with her fingertips.

  Trevor studied her with the same intense gaze she had on him, then as if some voice in his head told him he could trust the smiling woman, he stepped forward and threw his arms around his Grammy’s neck.

  With a teary-eyed chuckle, she folded him into an embrace, closing her eyes and savoring the moment.

  Danielle watched, a little knot forming in her throat. She’d never stopped to consider whether Trevor missed having grandparents, having any family other than her. He’d been enough to fill her world with love. She’d always assumed he felt the same. Watching the warm reunion, she wondered if she’d cheated him by staying away so long. But then, it hadn’t been her choice to leave. A hint of bitterness tainted the sweetness of the moment. She pressed her lips together and waited for it to pass.

  “Trevor, come meet your granddad. He’s right in here.”

  Taking Trevor’s hand, her mother led them into the living room. Danielle’s father sat in the tan recliner chair, his attention riveted by the baseball game on television. Karen breezed to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “William, Danielle is here. And this is Trevor.” He turned and looked up at his wife, then his gaze slid down to the smaller face at her side.

  She stepped back a few inches, giving him a better look at his grandson.

  Danielle held her breath, willing the moment to go smoothly, or at least not to turn hurtful for Trevor’s sake. To her
surprise, a slow smile spread across her father’s face. “Hello there, Trevor. Do you like the Cubs?” He pointed at Trevor’s baseball cap.

  Trevor’s face lit up. “Yeah! I play first base just like Derrek Lee, and when I grow up, I’m gonna try out for their team.”

  Her father’s smile widened, and he chuckled. “You know the Cubs play in Chicago, and that’s less than three hours from here by car. Maybe you and I can go to a game this season. Would you like that?”

  Trevor turned to Danielle, his eyes wide at the prospect. “Could I, Mom? Could I go to a Cubs game?”

  She should have been thankful Trevor and his grandfather had found a common point of interest so quickly and that their shared love of baseball was helping them bond. But she wasn’t sure she could trust her father to keep his anger in check, didn’t know if he’d changed or if he’d explode and hurt her son the way he’d once hurt her. She swallowed back the “no” that was on the tip of her tongue, and scrambled for a plausible excuse.

  “That sounds like fun, Trevor. Real fun. We’ll have to see whether the doctor thinks we can fit it into your medical schedule, okay?” She would let the doctor be the heavy here, and spare herself a little of the resentment Trevor was sure to feel if he was denied the trip.

  As she expected, he moaned with disgust. “I don’t want to go to the doctor. It’s no fun!”

  “I know, Trev. I know,” she said quietly.

  Her father reached out and patted Trevor on the head. “The Cubs will be there whenever we feel like going, son. Don’t worry. We’ll get to a game sooner or later. In the meantime, we can watch them on the television together.” He smiled at Trevor again, then shifted his gaze to Danielle. The smile faded from warm to polite. “Hello, Danielle.”

  She returned his smile with the same depth of feeling. “Hello, Dad.”

  The obligatory greeting complete, he turned back to the game and fell quiet. Trevor crossed to the couch and sat down, leaning against the padded arm of the chair. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. Sleep would be demanding a toll from him soon.

  “Would either of you like a snack?” her mother asked, glancing from Trevor to Danielle. “You must be hungry after the drive.”

  “Peanut butter?” Trevor asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice.

  Her grandmother gazed at him with delight. “Do you like grape jelly?”

  “Yes.” He flashed a toothy smile, and Danielle felt the force of his charm. The little imp. He’d have them all under his spell in no time.

  Her mother turned to her with an upraised eyebrow. “Anything for you?”

  “PBJ works for me too.”

  Her mother went to make sandwiches, and Danielle gathered up their bags, carried them upstairs, and deposited them in the rooms they’d be sleeping in for a day or two. Danielle had been given her old bedroom, though it no longer bore any traces of her former occupancy. The walls had been painted a pale mossy green, the oak furniture refinished in an antique white, and a new bedspread and curtains in a plaid of soft yellows and oranges gave the room a completely different feel. All traces of her teenage years had been erased, as if someone had wanted to eliminate the reminders of the unpleasantness she’d created.

  Though they looked different with a coat of paint, the dresser still gave the familiar squeak when she tugged open the top drawer to place a few outfits inside. She re-zipped her suitcase and went to stow it in the closet.

  Behind the bi-fold doors, three cardboard boxes occupied half the floor space. “Danielle” was written on the outside of each one in her mother’s neat penmanship. She stared at the boxes, wondering what was inside them, and afraid to look. But she could guess. The posters that once hung on these walls. The books that filled the shelves beneath the little window seat. Her jewelry box with its collection of trinkets and a few pretty stones she’d acquired during her youth. Pictures, yearbooks, music CDs.

  Basically, all the precious possessions she’d had to leave behind, the sum of her life up to age eighteen, reduced to three boxes, hidden away in a dark closet like a dirty secret. The shame of that day fell over her, potent and heavy. She gritted her teeth against the hurt, suppressed the anger that welled up through the tunnel of time to poison today with the pain of yesterday. That was another lifetime. The events of the past were over and done, and bringing it up wasn’t likely to change anything. She closed the closet door, hoping to close the door on the hurt too.

  Busying herself with unpacking, she stepped across the hall to the second bedroom. Her brother’s room, where Trevor would be sleeping, hadn’t changed much since the day Danielle left. She tried not to take it personal, but the evidence was glaring her in the face. Brandon’s childhood was perfectly preserved, while hers was completely expunged from the house. It said something about her parents’ disparate feelings for her and her brother—the child they wanted to remember, and the one they needed to forget. Hot tears burned behind her eyes, but she blinked fast, refusing them permission to fall. Working quickly, she unpacked Trevor’s clothes and laid his pajamas out on the bed, then fled down the stairs.

  She found her mother placing glasses of milk and papers plates holding sandwiches on the dining room table. Danielle detoured to the living room doorway. “Trev, food’s ready. Come eat at the table.”

  He skipped into the room and slid into the chair typically occupied by her father. She darted a glance at the doorway, her heart skipping a beat. “Trevor, maybe you should move—”

  Her mother caught her eye and shook her head. “He’s not joining us. It’s fine.”

  Uncertain, she looked to the doorway again, but it remained empty. She drew in a slow, deep breath and made a conscious effort to relax the muscles in her shoulders. Tonight Trev could sit there, but she would pull him aside before breakfast tomorrow and assign him her brother’s old spot at the table.

  Trevor had consumed half his sandwich by the time she sat down.

  Her mother brought a steaming cup of coffee to the table and joined them. “So Trevor, what grade are you in at school?”

  Danielle took a bite of her sandwich as Trevor launched into an answer, looking like a chipmunk with his cheeks full of half-chewed bread. Maybe she wouldn’t have to make conversation. Maybe she could get to bed before anyone noticed the morose mood that had overtaken her. She let them talk and concentrated on keeping her face void of expression. Trevor’s first day with his grandparents should be happy, untainted by her grievances from the past.

  Trevor’s eyelids were drooping by the time he swallowed his last bite of sandwich. Though her mother seemed eager to spend more time with him, Danielle knew that his body needed rest to fight the cancer.

  “Trev, it’s time to brush our teeth and get to bed.”

  “Awww,” he moaned. But his protest lacked firmness, more a habit than any real resistance.

  Her mother waved them away when they started to help clear the table. “I’ll get this. You go upstairs and settle in.”

  Danielle showed Trevor around the bedrooms on the second floor of the house, then supervised as he brushed his teeth in the little bathroom. After giving him a few minutes to change into his pajamas, she slipped into his room to tuck him in.

  “You look like Grammy,” Trevor told her as she folded back the covers and helped him into bed.

  She pulled the blankets up to his shoulders, then rested her hands on either side of his pillow. “You think so?”

  The pillowcase rustled beneath his head when he nodded. “You both have blond hair and blue eyes. And pretty smiles.”

  The little charmer. He knew his compliments made her insides feel like warm chocolate chip cookies, gooey and sweet. She gazed at him, marveling at this precious little soul the universe had entrusted to her care. In the not so distant future, the young ladies would have trouble keeping their hearts when he turned his warm brown eyes and silver tongue on them.

  Just like his father.

  The ache slammed into her, as it always did. She tried not to thin
k about Kevin, but Trevor was a little replica of his dad, making it hard to avoid the reminders at times. She gave the covers one last tuck. “Sleepytime.” The skin of his cheek was soft and warm against her lips as she delivered a goodnight kiss.

  “Goodnight Mommy,” he muttered as she stood.

  “Love you, babe.” His eyes were already closing, sleep dragging him under as she flicked the light switch and pulled the door closed.

  Danielle retired to her room, taking an account of the day. She had a happy child and an ecstatic mother. Her father had been reasonably pleasant to Trevor, and there were no major conflicts. It was almost too good to be true, which was probably why she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Danielle? Honey, are you awake?”

  Danielle pried her sticky eyelids open and rolled toward the sound of the voice.

  Her mother leaned into the bedroom doorway, wearing a smile that was too bright first thing in the morning.

  “What is it? Is Trevor okay?”

  “He’s fine. Still sleeping, actually. I wanted to let you know that your brother is on his way here. He wants to see you and meet Trevor this morning. I’m making breakfast for everyone.”

  “Brandon’s coming?”

  “And bringing Sarah too. I thought you might like to shower before they get here.”

  Danielle pulled her fingers through her tangled hair. It felt heavy and lank. “I do want to clean up. How long do I have?”

  “Half hour until they arrive. Breakfast should be ready shortly after.”

  “Let Trevor sleep a little longer. I’ll get him up when I’m out of the shower.”

  Her mother nodded and slipped away, closing the door behind her.

  Five minutes later, Danielle stood under the hot spray, washing away the gritty feeling she always got when she traveled and the weariness of a restless night. The mattress in her parents’ guest room was firmer than the one she was accustomed to, and she’d had trouble finding a comfortable position. Or maybe the tossing and turning had been more from the mental discomfort she felt. Either way, she hadn’t slept well.