by K. L. Jessop
One night, while home on spring break, I had been woken by a blood curdling cry. Racing to my parents’ room, I’d seen Dad lying on the floor, unmoving, while my mom cried over him. He’d suffered a massive stroke, and all the medical experience my mom had with working at the children’s hospital was suddenly stripped away as she become helpless to everyone in that moment. That was the storm that had ripped through our family, and from that day everything changed. Dad went from being a healthy man—who once fought for his country as a Navy SEAL and had numerous escapes with death over the years while out on the field—to being wheelchair bound within hours, having to have intense therapy to help him recover and learn to talk again. To this very day, we don’t know why it happened or if it will be the end of it, but despite his recovery and the endless times I’ve had Mom crying to me down the phone, they both forbid me from stepping away from my studies to come home and help.
“Hey, Pop. I’ve missed you.”
“My. Girl. H-home.” Where he would once be able to hold a conversation, Dad’s vocabulary is now more of a stop and start exchange—one where patience is needed because the time is precious.
“I sure am,” I whisper, not worried about the tear that escapes. Pulling back, my dad looks up at me with the same pride in his eyes as he had done through all the years I was a child.
“How are you feeling? I see you have some super new wheels.” I smile, pointing at his flash new wheelchair with more buttons than I can work out what they are for.
“Honestly, he was like a kid at Christmas when he got it.” Mom sighs, but grins down at dad.
“Drives. Better. Th-than… you.” Dad replies to mom and it has us laughing. He’s certainly not lost his humor.
“Still got the spark then, Pop.”
“Nora, I think your father has become more devilish since his stroke. Sometimes, I can’t contain his excitement.” Mom hugs me again and squeezes my arms. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. You look like you could do with a good meal inside you.”
I chuckle. “Mom, I do know how to cook. I have eaten since the last time I was home.”
“Maybe. But it’s no crime to want to feed my daughter.”
“No, but with your cooking, I’m likely to gain a few pounds within days.”
Stepping inside, Mom heads down into the kitchen as I let my eyes and my senses adjust to being back in my childhood home. The living room decor is now white and blue walls, big light gray couches and finished off with hard wood flooring to make it more accessible for dad. The family photo in the center of the wall is still the one that was taken when I was sixteen, my older brother still carrying a look on his face that I’ve never been able to understand. But the look in my parents’ eyes is what makes me smile. They were—and still are—so in love, and the pride they have for this family shows every day. However, it is the glorious smell wafting from the kitchen that has my stomach growling and my veins remembering I’m finally home.
“Apple Pie,” I hum.
“Your. F-fave.” Dad says behind me as he presses the buttons on his wheelchair to make it operate.
“She doesn’t make it as good as you used to, though,” I whisper, causing him to grin.
“Don’t. Tell… Her.”
I raise a brow. “I won’t if you won’t.”
“Shh.”
I grin at him. His speech has improved so much. For a good few weeks after his stroke, we would get nothing from him at all. He would just lay in bed, unmoving, while he was very much aware of what was going on around him. What had broken my heart was the look in his eyes. I still witness it often, but back then it had been unbearable to see. With his words stolen, his physical strength taken, all Dad could do to show his emotion was to cry. The numerous times I saw silent tears slip down his cheeks crushed me. It was like he’d given up altogether.
I’d juggled college work and looking after dad, spending weeks traveling to the hospital in the evenings to lay with him. And in those weeks, it was like we’d reverted back to the time I’d been a child: I read him his favorite stories, we watched endless programs on sea creatures, just like we used to do when I was small, but it was the videos of memorial services and his time spent being a SEAL that helped me to beg him to find that fight in him again. I’d known it was there—he’d known it too—but he’d needed that push and positivity to encourage him. Even though there are still things he can no longer muster, and the recovery is still on-going, Dad’s rehabilitation has surprised us all.
“Are you two going to be out there all day? I’ve got Nora’s favorite waiting,” Mom shouts from the kitchen.
I look back at Dad and he effortlessly rolls his eyes. “Still. Nags.”
“Coming, Mom,” I shout, laughing at him. “You are naughty. Come on. Let’s go eat.”
As I turn to head down the hall, I hear Dad press the controller of his wheelchair, and before I have a chance to move, his chair catches me on the back of my ankle, causing me to stumble forward. His apology comes out in a humorous chuckle as I rub my ankle.
“Jeez, Pop. I’ve only been home five minutes and you’re trying to kill me off already.”
He grins. “Come. Here.”
“What?”
“Here.” A flash of something covers his green eyes, and a wicked grin spreads across his face. He nods to his lap. “Sit.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished as my own smile spreads across my face at what I think he’s suggesting. “Pop. No. I’ll be too heavy for you.”
“Said. Sit.” The stern tone of his voice has me moving toward him and grabbing hold of the arms to his chair.
“Are you sure?”
He nods, and I lower myself onto his lap. The last time I’d sat on my dad’s lap I’d been a little girl with pigtails and missing teeth. Now, I’m an adult and a lot heavier. However, I can’t help but cuddle into him as his arm wraps around my waist. For a moment, I close my eyes and let my mind go back in time to the days I’d done this as a little girl, when my troubles had been non-existence and Dad’s frame was broader—to the times when he’d promised to always be my hero and me admitting I didn’t need one because I would always be strong.
Growing up with two Navy SEALs in the house and with my brother’s best friend next door, I wasn’t the type of girl who played with dolls and nail polish. I would build campfires in the back yard, digging up insects and pretending I was an ocean pirate who lived under the sea while out in my tree house. I hadn’t needed a hero then, and I don’t need one now.
“You. Ready?”
“For what?”
Dad chuckles at my sudden hesitation. “H-hold. Tight.”
Before I can protest, he pushes down the button on the chair remote and we speed down the long hall to the kitchen like he’s Lightning McQueen, narrowly missing the patio doors. I can’t help but scream in sheer excitement, loving hearing the enjoyment Dad is getting out of it, too.
When he spins us around to face Mom, she is standing at the far end of the kitchen with her arms crossed and a smile on her face.
“Oh my God, Pop,” I laugh.
“I can’t tell you how much your father has been waiting to do that with you since he got his new chair.” Mom chuckles, shaking her head at his playful game.
“I love this new crazy you seem to have developed.”
“I’ve even had to buy bubbles, so lord knows what he has planned.”
The happiness that those few seconds have given him have tears building in my eyes. For the first time in as long as I can remember, the playful side to my father is back, and I’m so grateful that I’ve chosen to take a year out of my studies and come home to spend time with him and my family. These last few years have been tough, but it’s times like this that make up for all the heartache.
Squeezing him tight, I smack a kiss on his cheek and chuckle when I see him still grinning. “How good is my time at home going to be?”
“Best.”
Chapter Two
> Nora
I wake to the sun streaming through my window, and I instantly smile to myself at how good it feels.
After eating a large amount of apple pie yesterday and catching up with my dad and all of his achievements, Mom helped me unload the boxes from my car so I could make a start on settling back home.
The stroke had affected Dad’s movement, but his arms and hands are pretty much in working order now, and he is gradually taking on little tasks and activities while the physical therapy continues.
Getting out of bed, I stretch my upper body and run my fingers through my long hair, scooping it up into a messy topknot. My room is currently full of the boxes I’ve brought back from College—boxes of clothes and shoes because a girl can never have too many, and years of textbooks, college work, and God knows what else. The last four years of my life are packed away, waiting to be placed back into my old childhood room that could really do with a freshen up. I hadn’t been a bit interested in unpacking anything last night, to the point where I’d slept in the clothes I returned home in. However, the one thing that’d had me searching through a few of the boxes is the one thing I can’t sleep without: Scuttle: the soft sea turtle that Grayson bought me for my fifth birthday; the very day he stole my heart.
Now, after being loved so much, Scuttle’s barely holding together. I’m not the type to get attached to things like that, and certainly wasn’t as a little girl being more of a tomboy, but there was something about the turtle that has stayed with me forever, and regardless of how ridiculous it may be given my age, I can’t sleep unless it’s sitting on my pillow.
The one time I lost him, I’d never felt panic like it. For a child so small, the fear I’d felt in my chest from not knowing where it was, was unbearable. I’d cried countless hours and had everyone searching the house from top to bottom, only to find it was wedged really tightly down the side of the couch. But what had made that day even better was when Grayson had held me close and promised me that if we couldn’t find it, that he’d go out and find me another, just the same, no matter how far he had to travel. The generosity from that man went above and beyond.
Even at that young age, I knew Grayson was not like any other boy I’d been around. The way I’d felt when around him had been different, and as I got older and matured, not only did I realize my feelings for him were changing but also that the man that Grayson had become had me falling for him even harder. My skin prickled more when he got close. My heart pounded faster when he looked at me. I wanted him in a way I wouldn’t be able to have. Whatever fantasies I’d had about him had to remain behind the closed doors of my heart because not only was he older than me, he was also Asher’s best friend.
Now though, I’m left confused and hurt because he’d once vowed to me he’d remain in my life forever, and that’s all changed. I’m still trying to work out why.
Pushing my reminisces aside, I head downstairs to the smell of pancakes and strong coffee, Mom no doubt busy in the kitchen before she heads off to work later. When she works at the Children’s Hospital of Kings’ Daughters, Dad has a carer who comes in to look after him and keep him entertained throughout the day.
“Good morning, Pop,” I say, kissing him on the cheek.
He’s sitting at the dining table, doing a puzzle, hundreds of little pieces spread out around him.
“Wow check you out with your hand eye coordination. It’s looking really good.”
“Your dad was a little disappointed when I came home with a puzzle based on farmland. Apparently, it wasn’t the sort of chick he was referring to.”
I look at Dad and the glee in his eye makes me snort. “Never mind, Pop. Maybe once you’ve finished this one, we can get you another.”
“Nothing rude, thank you, Nora,” Mom warns. “Your dad has regular visitors, and I don’t want them to see that sort of thing.”
“Leave it with me,” I whisper with a wink.
Heading over to the coffee maker, I pour myself a large mug of black coffee and inhale the strong smell. Like predicted, Mom has laid breakfast out on the counter like the good old days where we’d help ourselves. After grabbing a few pancakes and a banana, I take a seat next to Dad so I can watch him doing his puzzle.
“What are your plans today, Nora,” Mom asks, returning to the kitchen, now in her work uniform.
“I’m not sure. I said I might meet up with Makenna for a bit, but then I have to sort out my boxes as I can barely move in my room. Why, what are you thinking?”
“Nothing really. It’s just Wade will be here soon. I delayed him for an hour as I knew you’d be here for breakfast.”
I frown. “Who is Wade?”
“Your father’s new carer. Didn’t I tell you? Sonia left as she’s moving to New York.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t know that,” I say with a mouthful of food. “But I’ll be around for when he gets here. What’s he like?”
“Lovely!” Mom says, a little over enthusiastically, and I can tell by the look on her face that she’s already planning something in that mind of hers. “He’s such a gentleman and is only five years older than yourself. You’ll like him. He may even be your type.”
That makes me chuckle. Mom has no idea about my type of guys. I like them tall and strong and with a confidence that makes my skin tingle. And the only man who has ever had the ability to do that is one that you could class as prohibited.
“Single. Too,” Dad pipes up.
“Is that right?” I grin at him.
“He’s a lovely young man, Nora. It will be nice if you were to get to know him.”
“I’ve no problem getting to know anyone Mom, the problem comes in the form of Asher. Do you really think he will like the idea of me getting to know a guy who’s going to be in our house all day long while you’re at work?” I state. “Because somehow, I don’t think it will be that easy.”
“Your brother just loves you that’s all.”
“No, he loves the control that comes with trying to protect me. Why do you think I moved to campus with such eagerness?”
“To. Escape.”
“You see, Pop gets it.” I smile. “When is he back anyway? I need to plan how many cars I’m going to hijack and how many bars I’m going to drink my way through before he’s home and puts a microchip in my shoulder.” I joke.
“Nora,” Mom warns. “He’s back already. He came by before you arrived home. And no, we never mentioned you were coming home. Not that I like lying to him.”
“It wasn’t a lie, Mom. You just got your dates mixed up, right?” I grin. I’d had her promise not to tell Asher when I was coming home from campus. I knew he’d make a fuss if he was back from whatever country he’s been in.
“So, I’ve still got time to rebel then before I’m put under lock and key?”
Grabbing her car keys from the island, she gives Dad a kiss on the cheek before placing one on my head. “He just worries about you. We all do, Nora. You’re the one who—”
“You guys didn’t know about,” I sigh. “Yeah, I get it Mom. You don’t have to remind me. Again.”
Being the one they hadn’t known about often feels like I was born with a non-criminal prison sentence. I’m surprised I haven’t been given a badge that tells everyone in Virginia who I actually am.
Nora Nelson: the miracle baby. Handle with care, or better still, avoid at all costs.
After Mom had Asher, she told me that they’d tried for another baby, but nothing had happened. One year had turned into two and two turned into three rounds of IVF, all of which were unsuccessful. Then, ten years after heartache and deciding to give up on a bigger family, my mother woke one day in agony. Six hours later, she was cuddling a baby girl she never realized she was carrying.
As the years went on, I struggled at times with feeling overwhelmed. Mom sat me down and explained the heartache that her and Dad had faced with her miscarriages, and failed IVF. It was only then that I understood the impact it’d had on Asher: he’d witnessed heartbreak
from a young age and had been just as devastated by the turmoil it brought on our parents. That’s why he’s always wanted to protect me. Sometimes, though, he never understood that I needed to grow up and experience life like he already had.
“Right, I’ll see you both later. Behave, Pete. Nora is home for a while, so don’t overdo it in one go,” she orders my dad. I sometimes wonder if that is where Asher gets it from.
“It’s okay, I don’t plan on stealing those cars with Dad today.”
She rolls her eyes and heads out the kitchen, muttering to herself about how she’s going to cope with the both of us while I’m home, leaving Dad and me laughing.
As I watch him concentrate on his jigsaw puzzle, my mind wanders to the times we would all be home together, having big family dinners and playing games on Sunday afternoons before I went off to college. Those times seem like a lifetime ago, and so many things have changed since.
Regardless of whether Asher was here or deployed in another country, Grayson used to always come in and out of our place like it was his second home—be it for breakfast, a coffee or just a catch up. That guy was part of our furniture, and I’ve seen a dramatic decline in that since the tragedy of his mother’s death.
"Do you still see Grayson much?" I ask Dad, breaking the silence. Looking up, I notice his eyes turn sad, and that wedge in my chest pushes harder.
“Not. Much.” Placing his puzzle piece down, he turns his wheelchair toward me, an indication that he’s wanting to talk. Knowing that his words are limited, I’ll have to either fill in the gaps, help him with his words or sit and wait until he gets them all out.
"Few. Times. But...”
“Is he still working more than he should?”