Turning Home (A Small Town Novel)

by Stephanie Nelson

  I nodded, leaning my elbows on the counter. “Look, I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t plan to settle down or fall for Brooke. It just happened. If I could explain it so that you understood, I would.”

  Ruby’s eyes fell past me for a second and then met mine again. Slowly, she leaned onto the counter so that our faces were closer. With a smile, she trailed a fingernail down my arm. I knew all her moves, knew she was flirting with me in hopes the Dylan she thought she knew would appear.

  “You and Brooke are together, fine,” she shrugged her shoulders, “but she’s going back to school, right? Maybe I can keep you company while she’s away.”

  I stood so that Ruby’s hand fell away from my arm. Ruby was one of the prettiest girls I’d hooked up with. Most guys would jump at the opportunity to share her bed or her not-so-subtle offer. When I thought about sex now, it wasn’t random girls popping into my mind. It was Brooke’s delicate face I saw, her soft hungry moans echoing in my eardrums.

  “It’s over, Ruby.”

  “Maybe sooner than you think,” she mumbled, smiling.

  Ignoring the comment and realizing that talking to her was stupid, I spun around to head back to my table. My eyes connected with Brooke’s, and my chest compressed. She had her hair up in a ponytail and wore an Bama hoodie, but it wasn’t the sight of her that caused my chest to tighten. It was the utter look of betrayal shadowing her face. Her gaze snapped to Ruby and then to me, and I felt like she’d smacked me. I imagined what she saw: Ruby leaning over very close to me, smiling and running her fingernails down my arm. Even if I was innocent, it didn’t look good.

  “Hey,” I said once I reached the table. “How are you doing?”

  “Apparently not as good as you,” Brooke snapped.

  Dana’s eyebrows arched, and a small smile teased the side of her mouth. Figures she’d think me getting caught supposedly flirting would be funny.

  “Let’s go outside and talk,” I said to Brooke. I didn’t want Dana eavesdropping on our conversation or screwing it up.

  Brooke slid out of the booth, and together we headed outside. When the door shut behind us, I gripped Brooke’s hand and tugged her into me. Four days away from her had been too damn long. Then how are you going to deal with her being away at school, my inner voice whispered.

  “Nothing is going on with Ruby,” I told her. “I know my reputation is questionable, but that’s in the past. I’m fully committed to you.”

  Brooke peered up at me. “I know,” she said, her eyes falling to my chest. “I’m just … I’m angry with my daddy and taking it out on you.” Her eyes found mine again. “I believe you when you say you’re committed.”

  I smiled and brushed away a strand of her hair. “Why are you mad at your dad?”

  Brooke stepped out of my arms and walked over to lean against the front of the diner. Opening her purse, she pulled out a rectangular piece of paper and handed it to me. I studied the black and white photo, trying to decipher what it was.

  “It’s a sonogram.”

  My eyes widened. “As in a picture of a baby?”

  A small smile creased her mouth. “Yeah.”

  My heart jackhammered in my chest. “Is it … I mean … are you?”

  “No, I’m not pregnant. Someone left it at my mama’s grave, right after I had a dream about it. I’m mad at my dad because he knows something, but he’s not saying.”

  I felt the pressure in my chest ease. I’d dealt with pregnancy scares before and, while I loved Brooke, I wasn’t ready to become a father.

  “You think your mother was pregnant?”

  Brooke sagged against the brick wall and wrapped her arms around herself. “I asked the doctors if that was a possibility after I had the dream, and they said she wasn’t. I don’t know what it means or who left it.”

  “What do you mean when you say you had a dream about it?”

  “It was a few nights ago at your house. I dreamt about my mother’s wreck. She had that sonogram clutched in her hands.”

  I studied the smudgy picture again. “That’s strange,” I said. “And you asked your dad about it?” I handed the picture back to her.

  “Not yet, but I know he knows something, and I think it has something to do with your family.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a frown, “but maybe it’s why he doesn’t want me seeing you.”

  We were both silent then, lost in thoughts. My dad had told me to stay away from Brooke, as well. Maybe she was on to something.

  “If your dad won’t talk, maybe mine will. I’ll talk to him tonight and see what I can find out.”

  Brooke gave me a small smile. “Thank you, Dylan. I know all of this sounds ridiculous, but I’m going to drive myself crazy until I know the truth.”

  I walked over and wrapped her in my arms, resting my chin on her head. I could tell myself that the dream and then finding the sonogram photo was odd, but I wouldn’t admit that to Brooke. She needed answers, and I’d grill my dad until she had them.

  “How is school going?”

  My father and I sat at our kitchen table. I cooked lasagna and made a salad, but neither of us had much of an appetite. The house just didn’t feel the same without mama. My eyes kept wandering to her chair as though this nightmare would end and she’d be sitting there with us. My daddy had been quiet the past couple days, that softer side of him now locked up tight.

  “It’s fine,” I replied. “I passed all of my classes.” At the thought of school, I felt that unyielding guilt build just a little more. I had purposefully not joined Delta Iota Nu just to prove to my mama that she couldn’t dictate my life. Was it really that big of a deal to join her sorority and make her happy? The last time I’d talked to her was a month ago, and now she was gone. My last words to her had been, “I’m running late for a study group. I gotta go.” It had been a lie to get off the phone with her.

  “And your philanthropy work?”

  I dropped my fork and rested my elbows on the table. “Can we not do this, please?”

  “Do what?”

  “Act like everything is okay when mama isn’t here.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, his chest expanding. Raising his napkin, he wiped his mouth and then set it on the table.

  “We cannot put our lives on pause because your mother is gone, Brooke. The sooner we move on, the sooner the healing process begins.”

  “Grieving is also part of the healing process,” I told him.

  “Everyone grieves in their own way.”

  I studied my father’s face and remembered that night in his office when it looked like he’d been holding back tears. Maybe he wasn’t as heartless as I always thought him to be. Maybe his steely demeanor was a mask to hide his hurt.

  “Every other weekend I help out at the food pantry, and there’s another charity that helps clean up the town that I’ve worked with.” My father nodded, but his eyes were focused on his plate rather than me. I wondered if he was purposefully trying not to look at the spot where my mother normally sat. How would he be once I went back to school?

  “Mrs. Davies invited us to spend Christmas with them in Vail.”

  My head snapped up. “Lily and I aren’t that close anymore, and it wouldn’t feel right going to Vail without mom.”

  Smack! My father slammed his hand onto the table, his eyes growing hard. I jolted, the sudden loud noise startling me.

  “Damn it, Brooke,” he snarled. “You can’t stop doing things because your mother is gone. Besides, you didn’t seem to care about her feelings when she was alive.”

  His hand might as well have smacked me across the face. Tears sprung to my eyes because he was right. I hadn’t cared. Angry and upset, I stood up from the table and stalked over to where my purse sat in the entryway. I unzipped it and grabbed the sonogram picture. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stay with my father for too much longer. We butted heads like two stubborn goats. I was either staying with Dylan for the remain
der of break or driving back to my apartment, but I needed answers before I left. I couldn’t process my mother’s death while fighting with my father.

  Marching back into the dining room, I walked around to his side of the table and laid the picture down in front of him. “Whose baby is this?”

  My father leaned over to inspect the picture, and his shoulders lifted and fell in an indifferent shrug. “How should I know? Where did you find this?”

  “It was at Mama’s grave site the other night. Any idea why someone would leave this there?”

  The muscles in his neck tightened, and his fingers curled slowly into fists, one crumbling the photograph beneath his iron grip.

  “Hey, don’t ruin it,” I exclaimed, reaching for the photo. My father stood up and placed the picture into his pocket and out of my reach.

  “Tell me what you know,” I all but shouted, annoyed that he kept this particular secret from me. “Please.”

  My father and I stared at each other for a long time, me waiting for him to open up and him deciding whether he would. It was the longest, most maddening minutes of my life. I knew the entire town had secrets. Hell, the town was built on them, but when the secret affected my life, I deserved to know. Something told me I wasn’t going to like the truth, but that didn’t stop my curious mind from seeking it out.

  “Sit down,” my father said, his voice calm and smooth.

  I sat and didn’t dare utter a word in fear he would lock up and keep the secret hidden forever. My heart thumped against my chest like it was just as eager to hear the story behind the sonogram picture.

  “I’m only telling you this because I know you’re still seeing Dylan Crawford,” my daddy began. He took out the photograph, smoothed it, and stared down at the black and white smudges. When he looked up at me, the anger from before had faded.

  “It’s not right to speak ill of the dead, but I don’t want you going down the same path your mother did.”

  I decided to remain quiet, scared to ruin the moment and risk having him change his mind.

  “Twenty-six years ago your mother could have had any man she wanted. She was beautiful, kind, and everyone adored her.” He stared off into space as though reliving the memory. A ghost of a smile fell across his mouth and transformed his face into one I didn’t recognize. This was a man who felt genuine emotion for the woman he loved. I’d never seen him look at my mama that way.

  “Her parents expected her to settle down with a good man, a man capable of taking care of her,” he continued. “But like so many others, your mother fell for the type of boy no parent would want their daughters with. She saw him in secret, but there were rumors of their relationship. When word got back to her parents, ultimatums were put in place—either stop seeing him or lose her inheritance. By then it was too late, she was already pregnant.” My father stared down at the sonogram picture again. The smile that once hinted at his lips now thinned into a hard line.

  “She was a month along when she went to her secret boyfriend, telling him she was pregnant and choosing him over the money. He insisted she get an abortion and said choosing him was foolish. It broke her heart when he abandoned her and their unborn child. She had no other choice than to return home and live the life her parents expected of her.”

  “What about the baby?” I asked, too engrossed in the story to keep quiet any longer.

  “Your grandparents took care of it,” he said, his tone colder than the December air beating against the side of the house.

  My eyes widened. “You mean … they made her get an abortion?” A slight nod from my father was all the confirmation I got. What little food I’d eaten soured in my stomach. Before I could ask further questions, my father continued.

  “Don’t judge your mother for what she did,” he said. “She didn’t know how she would support a baby by herself. All of her money had been taken from her. She was completely on her own, shunned from the only world she ever knew. Her parents offered to help her out if she would do what they wanted. Even after she got rid of the baby and met me, she still carried a torch for the man who had abandoned her. She loved him deeply, and I don’t think she ever got over the loss of the baby or him. She lived life the only way she knew how.”

  Everything seemed to click into place suddenly. I pictured my mother’s subtle tears, the depression through the years. I remembered how my parents were never overly affectionate to each other and the distant look in my mother’s eyes when she lost herself in thoughts. I blinked and looked up at my father as though seeing him for the first time. All of the times he ignored her tears and worked long hours didn’t seem so harsh now. He had married a woman who was still in love with another man, and he knew it. Maybe his disconnection toward my mother was his way of shielding himself from the pain of that knowledge. Though he worked a lot, he’d never been mean to her or me. In fact, he doted on me my entire life. He may have had a hard exterior, but I never questioned whether he loved me or not.

  “Who was the guy?” I asked, a sickening feeling churning inside of me.

  My father looked at me, his eyes taking on a pitying tone. “Dylan’s father, Mark Crawford.”

  When my daddy confirmed my suspicions, my stomach dropped to my feet. I stood and raced toward the bathroom, reaching it just in time to throw up.

  I stopped by my dad’s house, knowing Dana was hanging out with friends. We sat on the back deck, a beer in each of our hands. We stared at the empty field of downed corn stalks that lined the backyard. My father still wore his blue work shirt and dirty jeans. His dark brown hair fell limply against his skull. I wasn’t sure how to breach the topic of Brooke and the sonogram picture. She thought it had something to do with my family, but I wasn’t so sure.

  “When Dana leaves,” I began, “I may take a week off and go with her.”

  My father took a pull from his beer, his tired eyes swinging over to me. “You and Jase just opened the shop. Can you afford to take time off?”

  “Yeah, Jimmy said he’s looking for some part-time work. He can come in and cover my hours.”

  “Where will you stay? Dana’s dorm isn’t co-ed.”

  I heard the unspoken question and was happy for a reason to bring Brooke up. “Brooke has her own apartment. I’ll stay with her.”

  My father hung his head, his arms resting on his bent knees. Slowly, he shook his head and muttered something under his breath that sounded like, history repeating itself.

  “I thought I told you to stay away from her?” He sat up straight and stared right at me.

  “I can’t,” I told him. “Besides, why should I?”

  “Because those people aren’t good people. Do you really think her family will ever accept you as their equal? That girl’s just having fun, and as soon as your charm wears off, she’ll move on.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I snapped. “I don’t care if her daddy ever accepts me. This thing between Brooke and me isn’t casual.”

  My father snorted, his stare almost mocking. “Money changes things, and we both know that those people only care about their money.”

  I was getting more pissed by the second. Maybe talking to him wasn’t such a good idea. I could tell Brooke that I hadn’t found anything out and just leave. But, I couldn’t look into her eyes and lie about something that was obviously important to her.

  “So, because you think Brooke might dump me eventually, I should stay away from her?” I asked incredulously. “Isn’t getting dumped a risk everyone takes when they enter a relationship?”

  “I’m not saying she might break things off,” my father said. “She will because her family will demand it. They’ll dangle her inheritance over her head, and she’ll reach for it rather than you. When it comes to those people, they will always choose their lifestyle over ours.”

  “You act like you have experience.”

  “I do. I’m not talking out of my ass, Dylan. So take my advice and let her go.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t.”

&n
bsp; My father snorted and nodded. “Yeah, I couldn’t either, and in the end, it hurt that much worse.”

  “What are you talking about? Mama wasn’t from a rich family.”

  “Not your mama,” he said, his gaze sliding back to the cornfield. “I’m going to tell you something I swore I never would. It’s in the past, and that’s where it belongs, but since it seems like you’re not going to take my word for it, I’ll tell you my cautionary tale. Maybe it’ll knock some damn sense into that hard head of yours.”

  I took a swig of my beer and leaned forward, unsure, but anxious.

  “Twenty-some years ago Brooke’s mother and I got involved. I was a lot like you. I didn’t date women so much as sleep with them. I had a couple girlfriends, but they never went anywhere. When Brooke’s mom—Faith—and I met, it was love at first sight. She was unlike anyone I’d ever seen. I knew that I would do anything for that girl.”

  My father got a faraway look in his eyes, and I knew he was remembering the past. I sat up straight and just stared at him in shock. My dad and Brooke’s mama had been an item? It was almost too bizarre to believe.

  “When she became pregnant, she panicked, and that was that.”

  “Wait, what?” I stood up and stared down at my father’s head. “You had a child with Brooke’s mom?”

  After a few long moments of silence, he said, “No, her family gave her two options: she could either stay with me and have our baby, but lose her money. Or she could take care of the problem and keep her family fortune. She chose them. I think she regretted her decision, but what’s done is done.” He tipped his head up and looked at me. “Now do you see why I don’t want you getting involved with Brooke?”

  Shit. I hadn’t expect this. I needed to think, needed to figure out how I was going to tell Brooke that my dad and her mom almost had a baby. What the hell was going to happen to us now? Would she be able to get over the fact that our parents had been involved?

  It’d been three days since my father told me about my mother’s secret. I hadn’t texted or called Dylan, and he hadn’t tried to contact me. I’d been thinking about my dream since learning the truth, wondering if it was my mama’s way of warning me away from Dylan. I’d searched countless posts online about dreams of loved ones. Most had received dreams after their loved ones had already passed. I received mine the day before. I never believed in mystical stuff before, but this was too coincidental.