by Marika Ray
“May I help you?”
I nodded, only smiling because the bun reminded me of Oakley. “Yes, I’m here to see my mother.”
She lifted an eyebrow, not impressed in the least. “And you are?”
“Wyatt.” I wagged a finger around the huge entryway behind her. “I grew up here? Emmaline’s brother…”
She sniffed and stepped back. “Right this way. I’ll find Mrs. Dolby.”
The woman showed me to the tea room I hardly ever went into as a kid. Too much to break for a rambunctious little boy. I glanced around the room, spotting the crystal, pottery, and fine drapes in subdued colors. The thick rug under my feet looked new, but that was about it. Not much had changed over the past two years.
“Wyatt!” Em burst into the room, hair already curled and five pounds of makeup on her face.
She ran over and gave me a hug. “I was wondering if you’d actually show.”
I frowned at her, keeping my arm over her shoulders. “Of course I came. I told you I would. I just didn’t want you yelling at me again. You’re kinda scary, little sister.”
She snorted, poking me in the stomach and snuggling into my side. “Mom’s probably not even up yet. Want to go to the backyard and look—”
“Wyatt?” Mom’s startled voice came from the doorway.
Em and I looked over to see Mom in her robe, her hair a mess, and her eyes still red and puffy from either sleep or crying. Perhaps both. She looked like she’d aged ten years since I last saw her at my graduation from the sheriff’s academy.
“Hi, Mom,” I said quietly, my heart dropping into a pool of guilt and worry. She’d always been the life of the party, flitting from one social activity to another, looking like she’d been born in Versace. Not a hair out of place or a chip in her classic French manicure. She’d only been busier after my father died. I’d falsely assumed she’d be fine.
Mom flew across the room and pulled me into a hug, her arms banded around my waist like she was afraid I’d vanish if she let up. A sob hit my chest, a sound I’d only heard once from my mother, the day the doctors told her they couldn’t save my father. I hugged her back, looking over her head to see Em bite her lip. She shrugged like this behavior was normal.
The grandfather clock in the corner kept time while we hugged. Finally, her breathing evened out, and I put my hands on her shoulders to step back. She sniffled and swiped under her eyes, refusing to look at me.
“Mom? What’s going on? Be straight with me.”
I watched her transform in front of me, straightening her spine, lifting that nose in the air, and tightening the knot on her robe.
“Let’s have a seat, shall we?” she said serenely, like she wasn’t disheveled and crying at the sight of me.
All three of us had a seat, Mom and me on the couch, Emmeline on the chair that was probably worth more than my truck. Mom snapped her fingers and that sour-faced woman from before entered the room.
“Tell Cook we’d like a full brunch, please. For three.” Mom reached over and squeezed my hand, sounding more like her old self.
The woman left the room after a brief head nod. Mom turned back to me, a sparkle in her eyes that eased some of the alarm in my gut.
“I’ve missed you so much, Wyatt. Why haven’t you visited me?”
I hung my head, feeling guilty for being a horrible son. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy in my new career.”
Mom got that expression I hated. “Too busy to see your mother?”
It felt all kinds of wrong, but I took a page from Oakley’s book. “No, you’re right. Not too busy for that. I guess I just stayed away because being here was too hard.”
Em sat forward, her elbows on her knees. “Because everything reminds you of Dad?”
I nodded at her, realizing she knew exactly how I felt. While I’d been hiding out in my new life, she’d been here, surrounded by memories of our father and dealing with a spiraling mother.
“Oh, let’s not talk about sad things now. Today is a day of celebration. My Wyatt is home!” Mom clasped her hands together under her chin.
I hated to burst her happy bubble, but I was done ignoring the elephant in the room. “Sorry, Mom, but I’d really like to talk about Dad.”
Mom shook her head, her hair looking even more of a mess with the movement. “No. Absolutely not. I’m too sad to talk about him.”
I reached over to take her hands in mine. “It’s been two years. I think it’s well past the time we talk about him.”
Emmeline sniffed, but nodded her head. “He’s right. You’re clearly not over it and this family is falling apart because we won’t talk about it. We lost Dad already. We shouldn’t lose each other too.”
Mom’s head bowed, her shoulders shaking. She gripped my hands so tight her strength surprised me. I nodded at Em, beginning to talk and hoping she’d follow my lead. We couldn’t force Mom to talk, but maybe she’d at least listen.
“I stayed away because I couldn’t admit that I was mad at him.”
Mom’s head popped up, tears filling her eyes and streaking down her cheeks. “Mad?”
Em nodded. “I was mad too. I mean, he worked seven days a week. He barely even saw us. For what? Another million in the bank? When would it be enough?”
“I needed a father figure, but he put his heart and soul into his company. That’s why I went into the sheriff’s academy and moved away. I needed to do something for myself, not just step right into Dad’s shoes.”
Mom took in a shaky breath, and Em stood up to grab a box of tissues for her. She blew her nose and wiped her face.
“Your father was a good man who only wanted to build a nice life for us.” Mom swept a hand around the room. “Look around you. He wanted to provide this life for you.”
Em sat down again, taking a tissue for herself. “I know, and we’re so thankful for it, but we really just wanted time with you and Dad. Before he could retire, he had the heart attack.”
I sat back on the couch. “Let me explain a different way. I met a woman.” At my mom’s gasp, I held a hand up, signaling to wait before asking me a million questions. “She’s my partner at work. I was invited to her sister’s baby shower, where I met her whole family. Her parents are the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Her dad dotes on those girls and they have a really special relationship. I wanted that with Dad, but never got it. I guess seeing that kind of dynamic with my own eyes made me want it for my own kids one day.”
Mom finally nodded, twisting the tissue in her hands. “You know, sometimes I wonder if he knew time was running out. Your father came home late the night before his heart attack. He showered and then sat on the side of the bed where I was reading. He said, ‘Margaret, I’ve made mistakes in my life, but none as great as missing out on raising those two kids of ours.’ Of course, I told him not to be silly, never imagining that he’d be rushed to the hospital the next morning.”
Em sniffed and grabbed another tissue. “You never told us that.”
Mom stood and knelt between us, holding each of our hands in hers. “He’d be proud of you both. He wanted you to be happy, first and foremost. The family working in the company wasn’t a priority. That was his baby. He’d want you to go out and find your own passion in life. And that’s what I want for you, too. I’m sorry I haven’t said that before now. I love you kids, and so did your father.”
I looked at Emmeline, who looked back at me with watery eyes. If the burning in mine was any indication, I wasn’t doing much better than her. Talking about our father wasn’t easy, but something about the softer edges of this pain felt like it might be healing too. For all three of us.
Mom stood and patted down her hair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get ready and then I’ll meet you in the dining room for brunch. We can talk more if you’d like.”
She leaned down and kissed Em’s cheek and then mine, giving me a wink before sweeping from the room like the queen of England. There was the mom I remembered, acting like a robe wa
s a ballgown.
Em bounced on the couch next to me. “I knew you coming home would fix things.”
I pulled her into a hug, needing someone to hold on to until I could breathe through the ache in my chest. “It’s not fixed yet, Em, but I have faith it will be. In time.”
Em leaned her head against my shoulder, giving me the time I needed, only breaking the silence when I stood and gave her my hand to help her up.
“So…were you talking about Oakley earlier?” She bounced on her toes. “Because I really like her! Are you seeing each other? Like romantically? Do you think she’d give me lessons on how to do the arm thingy she did on me? Do you think you’ll marry her and I’ll get a sister?”
“Whoa! Slow down, Em.” I backed away slowly and then made a run for the French doors, thinking I could make it outside before she cornered me with more questions I couldn’t answer. She’d loved to play chase when she was little.
The girl had gotten faster in my absence. She was hot on my heels as we ran around the infinity edge pool that overlooked the hills of the Bay Area. Darting around a huge shrub, I spun and jumped out at her, making her yelp.
“You don’t scare me, Wyatt Clifford.” She put her hands on her hips and lifted her nose exactly like Mom.
“Then why’d you yelp?” I teased her, out of breath and feeling lighter than I had in years.
She screwed up her nose. “Because you’re so ugly.”
I cracked up and so did she, both of us walking around the gardens and talking. Emmeline could talk the ear off a dead person, but I wanted to hear it all. I wanted to make up for the time I’d lost by staying away.
When Mom called us in, fully dressed, coifed, and bedazzled with jewelry, we’d worked up quite an appetite. For the first time, a meal around our dining room wasn’t stuffy and boring. In fact, it was as lively as Amelia’s baby shower. Mom had some color back in her cheeks, and Em looked positively gleeful to have some noise back in the house.
The sun started to dip in the sky and I knew I needed to head back home. Mom and I had sat outside just reminiscing for hours. I’d forgotten so many moments with Dad until Mom brought them up. He’d been too busy with his company, but he’d loved us. That much I could tell now that I didn’t have anger coloring every memory.
When I stood up to leave, Em hugged me tight and made me promise to visit again soon or she’d come up to Auburn Hill and make my life miserable. Mom didn’t seem to want to let go of my waist as she walked me out to my truck.
I pulled her into my chest, breathing in the familiar perfume scent that was uniquely Mom.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise,” I whispered to the top of her head.
She pulled back with a watery smile. “Good, son. Maybe next time you could bring that woman you met. Your partner?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know. I might have messed things up there.”
Mom tilted her head. “A sincere apology and showing you’re a changed man can go a long way. Trust me. I was married to your father for thirty years.”
I gave her a smile. “Tell you what. If I can make things right, you’ll be the first one to know.”
Mom patted my cheek and stepped back to hug Em to her side. “If you need us, we can come up and help convince her.”
Out of all the things that had been said here today, that was the one to hit me right between the eyes. I’d sat there at the baby shower and wished for a family like Oakley’s when I had one right below my nose this whole time. It just took some courage to say the hard things.
“I love you,” I whispered, climbing into my truck with a stranglehold around my throat.
22
Oakley
* * *
The doorbell rang, followed by banging that could only mean one thing: either the town was on fire, or Wyatt had gotten back from wherever he’d been all day. Not that I’d been keeping an eye out for him.
I pulled my grandpa sweater tighter around me and padded to the door in sweats and socks. Heartache didn’t lend itself to fashion, I discovered. All I wanted was sugar and comfy clothes lately. I pulled the door open to find Wyatt looking like a male model, one arm up high resting on the doorjamb, his other hand stroking the perpetual five o’clock shadow in the moonlight streaming through the pine trees. Heartache certainly wasn’t dictating his clothing choices. He looked ready to board a fancy cruise ship in his boat shoes, slacks, and linen shirt.
“Oakley,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Shit. How could my name on his lips have me ready to toss all my morals out the window and tug him into my bedroom?
“Can we talk? Just for a minute?” He straightened, his eyes looking red around the rims. Or maybe that was just a trick of the moonlight.
I pulled the door open wider and stepped back, already battling with myself over why I’d let him in. We had nothing more to say to each other. To keep having the same fight over and over again was insanity. I shut the door and turned to see him strolling right into my living room and plopping down on the couch. I took my time catching up, enjoying the sight of him in my home, but already bracing for the argument and the heartache that would follow. I sat on the other side of the couch, pulling my feet up under me.
Wyatt leaned forward, his impressive forearms on his knees. I frowned when he paused and seemed to consider his words. For just needing a minute to chat, he was putting a lot of effort into it.
“Oakley,” he started again. He ran a hand through his hair and then pinned me with an intense stare. “I think we should tell Sheriff Locke tomorrow morning. I’ll ask for a transfer to another county.”
My heart stood up and cheered before my brain could tell her to settle down. “I’m sorry, what?”
Wyatt lunged toward me, grasping my hands. “Because of you I’m having tough conversations and facing things, and I really feel like I’m ready to face whatever comes from us dating. Say you’ll give me another shot? A chance to do things right this time.”
Now my lungs were heaving, getting in on the dance with my heartbeat. My brain was having a hard time remembering why we should resist.
“Wait. Slow down. Where is this all coming from?”
Wyatt squeezed my hands so hard I almost whimpered. “I visited my sister and my mom today. We talked about my dad—who died almost two years ago, by the way. Mom was a mess, and I realized that ignoring everything wasn’t making anything better. In fact, it was killing those of us who were left. Don’t you see, Oakley? Meeting you and your family made me realize that I have a family too if I just had the hard conversations.”
This was all news to me. I had no idea Wyatt’s father had died. My heart dropped, ripping down all the reasons I’d had for being angry at Wyatt. He was right. There was so much I didn’t know about him. But I wanted to.
“I’m so sorry about your dad. But why were you afraid to talk to your family?” I asked softly.
His inhale was shaky. “My father was a workaholic, never really there for us as we grew up. We were wealthy, so I had him to thank for that, but really, Em and I just wanted a dad. When he died suddenly of a heart attack, I was angry. Angry at him, angry at the injustices of life. And of course, I felt guilty for being angry at a dead man. So, I didn’t go home, didn’t visit, didn’t talk about him. I just built my new life and tried to put all that behind me.”
I shifted closer, leaning my head on his shoulder. “It didn’t work, did it?”
He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Not even a little bit. All it did was make me bitter, rob me of a relationship with my sister, and alienate my mom when she was clearly struggling too.”
Wyatt played with my fingers, tracing each knuckle and line. We sat in silence for a while, just two people sharing the weight of raw emotions. If I could take some of that off his shoulders, I would sit here all night with him.
Wyatt finally cleared his throat and turned to me, his voice nothing more than a gritty whisper. “Thank you. Thank you for
insisting on honesty. I want that with you too, Oakley.”
My eyes filled with tears, and I knew that I’d forgiven him. Knew that I wanted nothing more than to give this dating thing a try. I knew he was worth it, and I also knew I pushed for too much when he obviously was dealing with a whole host of emotions. I nodded, a smile growing as he closed his eyes, as if on a prayer of thanks. When he opened them again, the hunger was back.
We came together in a frenzy, lips colliding and tasting. Giving and receiving. Soothing and yet stoking a fire I hoped we’d never put out. His hands immediately went into my hair and pulled the hair tie out, sifting through the strands as they fell down my back. Then his tongue lapped at my bottom lip for entry and I gave it to him. He shoved my sweater off my shoulders and I tugged his shirt out of his pants. Wyatt’s lips moved to my jaw, my ear, my neck.
He stood abruptly, and I nearly tumbled forward on the couch.
He looked down at me, shirt and hair already rumpled, but a renewed happiness in his eyes. He held out his hand, palm up, that bulky watch around his wrist like always. “Let me look at you.”
I placed my hand in his and let him pull me up and into his body. The look in his eyes, the gravel in his voice, and the promise of the hard line digging into my stomach mesmerized me.
He didn’t say a word, just led me to my bedroom, closing the door and stripping his shirt over his head. He stepped out of his shoes on the way to me, tugging my sweater all the way off before starting in on my tank top. He slid my sweats and underwear off with one motion. Only when I stood before him completely naked did he stop and step back, looking me up and down in absolutely no hurry.
“Perfection,” he murmured, leaning back in to nudge my cheek with his nose. “You’re the sexiest, most beautiful, most honorable woman I’ve ever met.” His kisses peppered my face, slow and lazy and so sweet I couldn’t help the shiver of pleasure that raced down my skin.