Something Like Family

by Heather Burch

  “Is it OK to tell you I’m really glad you’re back?”

  When her hand heated, Sharon glanced down and realized she’d kept her fingers on Marty’s thigh. She snatched it away. “Sorry.”

  A gentle smile spread across his face. “Can I walk you home?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she gave a last look to the memorial park.

  Marty stood. “Your son, he’s a pretty amazing young man.”

  Sharon stood, too. “Yes, he is.”

  They fell into step beside each other, her shoulder brushing his upper arm now and then. The comfort of an old friend—but they’d been so much more. They passed beneath the flowering tree downtown, where the streets were littered with the last bits of trash from the movie. She wondered if he’d pause beneath it. But he didn’t. His step had faltered, but only for a moment, and she knew it was ridiculous to think that after all this time, he’d remember that beneath the tree, when it was barely high enough to stand under, they’d shared their first kiss.

  When they reached her place, Marty said, “Are you here for good, Sharon?”

  A direct question. “I hope to stay. I’m here until Tuck has his donor surgery. Then it all depends on Rave. I won’t make his life more complicated. And a new liver means Tuck’s cancer is cured. There is a job waiting for me in Texas, but—”

  “But you’d rather stay here.” He didn’t move toward her, but he did lean. Ever so slightly, in her direction.

  “Yes. To be with Tuck for the rest of his life. To have my son again. To have my hometown.” Still, she had to remember that Rave might not ever be OK with her being there. He had a right to his emotions. And she had a place to go, a mission to accomplish if it was in his best interest to leave. But either way, she’d make frequent trips home. And once Tuck was feeling up to it, she’d bring him to Texas to visit as well.

  But in the end, she’d learned that life wasn’t perfect. She’d no longer try to make it something it could never be. Instead, she’d started to think of life as something like perfect. Not perfection. But something so close that in its purest sense, it was its own kind of lovely. Something close to perfect. Something close to beautiful. A new kind of happy.

  Tuck arrived at Trini’s just before noon. The early August sun was warm, but not unbearable, prompting him to ask her to go on a picnic. He hadn’t meant to, really. She’d called earlier to check in on him, and he’d yammered on about the yard with its new flowers, the feel of an early fall bite in the morning air, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d said, “Let’s go on a picnic.”

  Everyone else was busy. It would only be the two of them. Trini had agreed and told him to meet her at noon. He’d arrived ten minutes early to find her swinging a broom at the air.

  Tuck stepped out of the truck and headed for her. She was at the side of the house and even from the front yard he could hear her cursing.

  “Lost your marbles, Trini?” he asked as he neared, careful not to get in the trajectory of the broom.

  “Dad-blasted wasps. Weather is turning, and they’re coming into the house.” She brushed her free hand across a sweat-glazed forehead. Some of her hair had slipped out from her headband. She looked pretty, though. He’d always liked a woman a little more on the tousled side, a little less on the perfect side.

  “So the sensible idea was to come outside and kill every last one?”

  She pointed to the top of a tall window. “They’re coming in around the frame. Did it last year, too.”

  “You got a tube of caulking around here?”

  She rested her arm on the top of the broom. “There’s some in the garage. I don’t know if it’s any good. Been there for months.”

  Tuck angled toward the garage, and Trini followed him. After a few minutes of looking around, he found the tube and a caulking gun half buried under the garden tools. “Where’s your ladder?”

  Trini pointed to a corner where the ladder lay on its side behind boxes marked CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS. When Tuck started to pull the ladder from its spot, Trini placed a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should wait on this. Becca and her daddy are coming over next Sunday. He can take care of the wasps.”

  Tuck gave her a crooked smile. “You really want to battle them for several more days?”

  She huffed and took the loaded caulking gun from Tuck so he could concentrate on the ladder.

  Within a minute’s time, he had the ladder situated under the window and was climbing up. “Careful,” Trini said.

  He stared down at her. “You do realize I was an electrician for thirty years. This isn’t my first time on a ladder.”

  Trini positioned herself opposite the wall, dutifully gripping the metal sides.

  But everything happened so fast.

  First, as Tuck was readying the caulking gun, two wasps came jetting out of the wall. He glanced up at the sound of their buzzing just in time to see them headed straight for his face. Pure instinct caused him to swing the caulking gun. He lost his grip, and the gun went flying. He reached for it, knowing Trini was below him. Then he saw sky as the ladder tipped.

  The strangest thoughts whisked through his mind as he felt his body slamming into the ground. Something hard bit into his side. For an instant, he was back in Vietnam. But that moment passed. He was not there. He was on the ground, and Trini was above him, screaming. He wanted to calm her, but he couldn’t move. What was in his side? The pain was unbearable.

  There’d been a time when he was OK with leaving this life. A time when he’d thought Millie was waiting—right there on the other side of Glory—arms outstretched, ready to welcome him. But then he’d found Rave, and Sharon had come home. And leaving this earth and Rave and Sharon behind was unthinkable. It was also unthinkable to know that if he stayed, Millie would remain waiting. At least for a little while longer. How could living be more complicated than dying? Tuck wanted to live. But around him, the world was growing foggy.

  CHAPTER 20

  Rave sped into the driveway of Trini’s house just as his mother was getting out of her car. She looked frantic.

  In a voice much calmer than he felt, Rave said, “Daniel, stay in the truck with Bullet, OK?”

  Sharon rushed to him. “Trini called me. I got here as quickly as I could.”

  The ambulance was just arriving, and rather than find Tuck, he motioned for them to follow him around the side of the house, the place where Trini said he’d fallen.

  A sound somewhere between a scream and a cry ripped from Sharon’s mouth. “Dad!”

  She dropped beside him. He lay on the ground, and Trini was on her knees alongside him. He wasn’t moving, and Rave had to bite back his own emotions. There was blood on the edge of Tuck’s mouth.

  The paramedics were already beginning to work on him, but Tuck wasn’t responding. Around him, Rave heard the words, “We’ve got a pulse.”

  Rave tried to breathe, but everything was disappearing, his focus becoming small. He drew a breath, and with it, strength, and he rushed forward.

  Sharon gripped Tuck’s hand. “He’s not moving. Rave . . .” Her panicked eyes searched him. When the paramedics moved her aside, Rave pulled her to his chest.

  Trini was giving an account of what had happened. Her face was pale, and her lips had lost all their color, but she was exhibiting the kind of strength she was known for. Now Rave understood why.

  “Take Trini to the hospital, Mom.”

  When Sharon only stared at her father, now being lifted on the gurney, Rave moved her away from the scene by stepping around the edge of the house. “Sharon!”

  Eyes filled with fear and dread focused on him. “I need to drop Daniel off at Becca’s house. Can you get Trini to the hospital?” He spoke each word carefully, hoping she understood.

  She swallowed, nodded her head. Pulled a few deep breaths. “I can.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  Sharon met Rave in the hospital hallway. “He’s going to be OK, Rave.”

  Rave r
ushed forward and hugged her. In the folds of his shirt, he could hear her sobs, her hands fisted into the cloth. He tried to be strong. So many times he’d been strong for his mother, but that was because he’d had to be. There’d been no choice. Maybe for once, he could just let go. Maybe for once, they could console each other.

  “We almost lost him, Rave. I thought we had lost him. I can’t—I can’t . . .”

  “Sshh,” Rave soothed. “It’s all right, Mom. We didn’t lose him.”

  When she quieted, he released her. “Any broken bones or anything?”

  She shook her head. Her makeup was smeared. “No. A pretty good bump on the head. Bruised and exhausted. They’ll keep him overnight for observation. He’s been asking for you.”

  Rave put an arm around his mom, and together they entered Tuck’s room.

  Emotions surged through Rave’s heart when he saw Tuck stretched out on the white bed. “Are you OK, Tuck?”

  “Tough as nails,” he said. But when Rave had to gulp back the sobs, Tuck reached for him. “Come on, now. I’m all right. Takes more than a ladder and two wasps to put me down.”

  “Dad, please don’t joke. It’s not the time.” Sharon dropped into a nearby chair, and Rave could see the toll this had taken on her. On both of them.

  Tuck pulled himself up on the bed, an obvious attempt to reassure them. “The doctor says that everything can move forward as planned.”

  Rave nodded. “You mean your surgery?”

  “Yes.” His brow furrowed.

  Rave felt the atmosphere shift. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Rave, we need to talk. It’s not about the surgery, although I’d expect it’ll change things when you know the truth.”

  Rave glanced behind him at his mother. Eyes wide and mouth open, she didn’t look like she wanted to travel down this road. “The truth about what?” he coaxed.

  Sharon stood and rushed forward. “You know what, there’s lots of time for discussions after you get home, Dad.” Cheery, too cheery.

  Rave swallowed. “Tuck, is she not telling me something about you?”

  Tuck’s hands spread across the white sheet. “It’s about you, Rave. And I’ve been keeping the truth from you for long enough. Sometimes it seems better, easier, to not admit fault, but I’ve been harboring this since you’ve been here, and it’s just wrong.”

  Rave leaned back, trying to ready himself for what Tuck would say.

  “When you came to my door, that wasn’t the first time we’d met.”

  Rave shrugged. “Sure it was.”

  “No. Your momma was living here when she was pregnant with you.”

  Rave looked at his mother’s face. Had she left when she was pregnant? Right after he was born?

  Sharon came around the side of the bed and started to place a hand on his arm. Instead, she closed her fingers and dropped her arm to her side. “Rave, we were here for two years after you were born. And I—I was afraid that Tuck was going to take you away from me. That’s why I left, and that’s why I let you think they were dead. I just—”

  Tuck interrupted her. “Stop it, Sharon. He needs to hear all of it.”

  Rave looked back and forth between his mother and Tuck.

  “When we found out your mother was pregnant, I tried to get her to—” But the words seemed to die in Tuck’s mouth. His face was pale, the lines around his eyes deep with worry. “I wanted her to abort you.”

  All the air left Rave’s lungs.

  “I’m so sorry, Rave.” Tuck’s eyes pleaded. “And I know you can probably never forgive me.”

  Thoughts rushed at his mind, but all he could say was “Why would you want her to do that?”

  Sharon placed a hand gently on his arm. “I was an addict. Even then. They were afraid I might not survive the pregnancy and afraid of what it would do to the child.”

  He stepped back. “So the sensible answer was to remove me from the equation?” End his life. That was their answer to a difficult and potentially life-threatening situation.

  Tuck drew a sharp breath, then winced at the pain it caused. “I was wrong, Rave. I was so wrong, and your mother got clean and stayed clean until you were born. For two years she fought to keep her sobriety, and Millie and I were so blessed to have you in our lives. But then, we saw her slipping. I feared for your safety and made arrangements to have her committed.”

  “And what about me? Were you planning to dump me in foster care?”

  “No. Good heavens, no. You were the light of our lives. We were going to get custody. Raise you ourselves until your momma was clean and fit.” A nurse stepped in, hit the brick wall of tension in the room, and turned around and went back out.

  Rave’s eyes landed on his mother. “So you took me, and you ran.”

  Sharon nodded. “And told you they were dead. I didn’t want to lose you. Not ever.”

  Rave tried to digest what he’d just heard, but certain phrases kept flickering before his vision. Abort. Custody. It was too much to take in. He slowly moved away from them.

  Tuck’s voice followed. “I guess there will never be words adequate. But, Rave, I am so sorry.”

  A humorless laugh escaped Rave’s lips. How many times in his life was he going to hear the words I am so sorry? They were tossed around carelessly, thrown like a ball on a playground. Rave didn’t know how some people could think of others as throwaways. He’d never thought of anyone like that. Had always seen the worth in a human being, no matter how ugly his soul might be.

  Maybe he needed to learn the art of detachment. Maybe his heart wouldn’t be broken time and again if he could master that skill. But even as the thought entered his mind, he knew that would never be possible for him. Deep within his soul, he believed in people. Even those who let him down. And potential was almost as important as aptitude, wasn’t it? If a person possessed potential, there was hope. And Rave had gone through too much to give up on hope. But what he didn’t know was how many times a man was supposed to forgive.

  His legs carried him a few steps away from them, out of the fog of honesty. He stopped walking just shy of the door, trying to make sense of it. Trying to wrap his head around the fact that his grandparents hadn’t wanted him to be born. Of course, they were trying to keep their daughter alive. Rave could understand that. And maybe if he hadn’t been failed so many times by the people he trusted, he could even deal with it. But people had failed him. Over and over and over. Rave turned. His focus stayed on the white tile floor. There were bits of dark in it. He knew that was a technique used by places like hospitals and restaurants—it camouflaged the dirt. It hid the bits of trash so people would be fooled into thinking the floor was clean.

  But the image of Tuck behind him filled his vision. Tuck, small and frail on the oversize hospital bed. White sheets pulled up to his chin, his face sagging as if the conversation had stolen years from his life and life from his flesh. Rave squeezed his eyes shut, then cast a fleeting glance at Tuck and his mother. “I need some time.” It was all he could manage.

  Neither of them moved. Tuck and Sharon remained like glass statues, as if the smallest hit could crumble them, reduce them to shards. Never ever had he seen anyone look so broken. And yet, he found it impossible to comfort them. When he reached the hospital room door, Tuck said, “Wait.”

  Rave turned.

  Tuck winced as he removed the chain from his neck and held it out to Rave. “There’s a photo album in the top of the closet. It’s yours.”

  Rave returned to Tuck’s bedside and let him drop the necklace into his hand. In his palm was a shiny brass key. The key to Millie’s sitting room.

  It was strange to see photographs of himself, not recognizing his own face. He’d stared at picture after picture of the little blond boy with the slightly crooked smile. Tuck was easy to recognize—twenty years younger back then, but still the same man. His mom looked like he remembered, only younger, more full of life and happily holding her little boy.

  There were
a few photographs of Grandma Millie downstairs in frames, but they looked posed. These photos were candid. In one, her head was tipped back, mouth gaping, while a toddler-aged Rave poured a colorful bucket of sand into her lap. Sand. Probably the first time he’d ever seen the ocean. His mom looked beautiful then—happy, glowing, almost. So there’d been a time when they’d been a real family. All of them. It both hurt and gave him hope, a strange mix of love and regret, a cocktail he had a difficult time drinking.

  After spending an hour poring over the pictures, Rave went to Becca’s house. Her mother offered to keep Daniel, so they drove down a winding road that ended at a waterfall. They sat at the bottom, where the spray could mist their hair and bodies while he told her what he’d learned.

  Becca held his hand. “What are you going to do?”

  “What would you do?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. When my dad was in Afghanistan, all I wanted was for him to come home. I just wanted him to be all right. Family is a gift. Even when they’re not perfect.”

  Rave nodded. “Pretty sure your dad has never done anything like this.”

  Becca’s hair glistened with tiny drops from the falls. “No. He hasn’t. I’m not excusing what they did, but at each step along the way, everyone was trying to protect the ones they loved. Your grandpa was trying to protect your mom. Your mom was trying to protect you.”

  He stayed quiet.

  She angled her head back and looked up through the haze and dappled sunshine to the place where the falls began. “Family. It’s danger close.”

  “Yeah.”

  Becca scooted closer to him. “I guess you can at least be thankful that you have family who love you. They didn’t have to tell you the truth. Your mom could have put all the blame on Tuck and Millie. Tuck could have done the same. But they wanted to tell you. Maybe that counts for something.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What are you going to do, Rave?” That was the question. If he took Daniel and ran, he’d be no better than his mother. That’s what she’d done. Rave locked his elbows behind him and leaned back. “I want Daniel to grow up with a forgiving heart. How can I expect that when I can’t forgive my mother and Tuck? What does that say about me?”