Rifts and Refrains

by Devney Perry

  “Huh?” The apology was welcome, but beliefs? What was he talking about?

  “I do my best to keep an open mind but with you kids, I wasn’t—”

  “It was never about the faith. The beliefs or the message. It was about the church.”

  His forehead furrowed. “The church?”

  “You are a shepherd, guiding your congregation, your family, down a path. If everyone walks in the same direction, it works. It’s harmony. But when someone wants to go a different way, specifically your daughter, things fall apart.”

  “And things fell apart, didn’t they?”

  “Epically,” I teased. “I wasn’t a rebel, Dad. I was a good kid who got good grades and liked tank tops. I wanted to play in a rock band and have a boyfriend. These aren’t sins.”

  “I know that.”

  “But there were some who didn’t. And you stayed on the path, in the middle, when you were supposed to say screw everyone else and stand up for me.”

  He hung his head. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I didn’t realize . . . it was never my intention to stifle you. This is not an excuse, but I wanted to keep the peace. It’s taken me twenty-something years to realize peace is overrated. But back then, the last thing I wanted were complaints to the church’s board. If they would have fired me, we would have had to move. Or I would have had to quit. Until you kids were out of high school, I didn’t want to take that risk.”

  At twenty-seven, I could appreciate the logic of his actions whereas they’d only hurt at eighteen. Because those people, the ones like Susan, vocal and judgmental, would have been the ones to complain. They would have had his job and forced Dad to another church and community.

  Dad placed his hands on my shoulders. “What I said that night—that I was disappointed in you and that you were disgracing our house—I regretted it the second the words came out. Forgive me.”

  He’d always preached that forgiveness was the purest form of love.

  And I truly loved my father, no matter what had come between us.

  “I forgive you.”

  He pulled me into his chest, hugging me tight. “I love you, Quinn.”

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  We stood there, holding on to each other, until a throat cleared behind us. I let Dad go, swiping my eyes, and turned to see a beautiful woman with a short black bob lingering in the hallway.

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  “No problem.” Dad grinned at me. “Chau Tran, meet my daughter, Quinn. Chau is our children’s director and the drill sergeant this week.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I shook her hand.

  “Nice to meet you too. I was at the service on Saturday and heard you sing. You brought me to tears. My wife and I are huge Hush Note fans too.”

  “Thank you. If you ever come to a show, just get word to me and I’ll get you guys some backstage passes.”

  Her eyes widened. “Seriously? We were already talking about a trip to your show in San Francisco this fall.”

  We weren’t doing a full tour this fall, but we’d organized a couple of concerts along the West Coast since we’d spent so much time on the East Coast this summer. “Just get my email address from Dad as it gets closer and let me know if you decide to come. I’ll hook you guys up.”

  “This is amazing.” She beamed. “Thank you.”

  Susan appeared behind Chau, tapping the younger woman on the shoulder. “They’re calling for you downstairs.”

  “Oh.” Chau pulled a walkie-talkie off her belt and checked the volume. “Damn. I turned it to mute.”

  “Language,” Susan scolded.

  Chau just rolled her eyes. “I’d better get back. Nice to meet you, Quinn. And thanks again.”

  “You too.” I waved with a smile that morphed into a scowl when Susan turned her back.

  Dad blew out a frustrated sigh and dropped his voice. “I’m letting Susan go next week. It’s going to be a shitshow.”

  My mouth fell open. First, that he was actually firing Susan. Second, that he’d cursed. Third, that he’d brought in a lesbian to direct the children’s program.

  Maybe what everyone had told me was right. Things were changing.

  “I like Chau,” I said.

  “She’s been a breath of fresh air in this stuffy office. It’s been long overdue,” he said. “Your mother mentioned something about Christmas.”

  “I was thinking about coming home.”

  “You’re always welcome.” He put his arm around my shoulder and walked with me down the hallway to the exit.

  “I warned her that means Nixon will likely tag along too.”

  “Good. Bring him along. And if you ever need someone to talk to about his addictions, I’m here.”

  Dad had always been observant. “How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “A hunch. Am I wrong?”

  “No. I worry about him. We all do.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “How about we save that for next Monday?”

  “I’ll call you.”

  I had no doubt that he would.

  How crazy is this? I’d walked here angry, but when I searched for a lingering shred, there was nothing. Poof. It was just gone. He’d call me on Monday, and we’d fumble into a new type of father-daughter relationship. Maybe Nan had patched more holes than I’d ever given her credit for.

  “See you soon, Dad.” I hugged him once more.

  “Safe travels, sweetheart.” He held the door open for me, waving as I walked down the stairs to the sidewalk.

  Kids were playfully shouting on the front lawn. There was a giant parachute stretched out between little bodies arranged in a circle and they were tossing a ball in the air with the fabric.

  I searched the group for Colin but didn’t see him. Maya was in the ring, giggling with the others, but she didn’t spot me as I passed.

  My heart felt lighter as I walked home, even with my departure looming. Because I’d be back. This would always be home.

  A text dinged in my pocket and I pulled out my phone, seeing Harvey’s daily text. But instead of cringing, I simply cleared the notification and put it away.

  It was time to be in Seattle and return to work. I was ready to go home, to my space and my bed and my city. I was ready to create again. This week hadn’t been planned and there had been a few excruciating moments, but the break had given me a chance to clear my head.

  And my heart.

  Would Graham move on now that we’d made amends? Would I?

  The knot in my stomach signaled a resounding no.

  My God, I was going to miss him. The idea of not seeing him every day, not being here to see his smile . . . my heart was breaking.

  He was mine.

  I wouldn’t move on from him. No one would ever replace Graham.

  He’d ignited something in me this week. He’d brought to life a slew of emotions that I’d been suppressing for years. It was time to let them breathe.

  I’d spent my entire adult life downplaying or denying my love for Graham. So for a while, I’d embrace it. I’d carry him in my heart as I continued on with life.

  And when it was time, I’d let go.

  Though, I couldn’t imagine a day when I wouldn’t love Graham.

  Mom was waiting for me on the front stoop when I turned the corner of our block. “You just missed Nixon.”

  “What?” I scanned the street, looking for a car. “Where’d he go?”

  She handed me a piece of paper folded in half. There was a smile on her face, one more mischievous than happy. “He left this for you.”

  I flipped open the paper and scanned his sloppy scrawl. Once. Twice. Then I crumpled the page in my fist.

  “That son of a bitch stole my airplane.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Graham

  “How was church camp, bud?”

  “Good,” Colin said, buckling his seat belt and shaking a white water bottle that I hadn’t sent him with this morning. “I
won this.”

  “Yeah? Nice.” I glanced at the floor. I’d sent him with a backpack, right? “Where’s your bag?”

  “Uh . . .” He slammed a palm against his forehead. “I forgot it inside. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I rolled down his window and shut off the engine. “Sit tight. I’ll go get it.”

  If I let him go retrieve it, he’d get distracted by friends and probably forget the reason I’d sent him in the first place.

  “Be right back.” I winked at him as I got out and jogged to the church, scanning the crowded common room for an adult as I walked inside. “Hey, Chau.”

  “Hi, Graham. How’s it going?”

  “Good. Colin forgot his backpack. Any ideas where his group keeps theirs?”

  “They are in the music room downstairs.”

  “Thanks.” I waved and went downstairs, finding Colin’s bag on the floor. I swiped it up and kept my chin tucked on the way outside, avoiding eye contact with other parents who might want to chat. It had been a long-ass day and I was ready to get home.

  Walker and I had pushed hard at the Bridger project and finished framing out the house today. It was a tall hurdle to leap and with it behind us, all the other tasks would begin falling into place. We had an inspector coming by tomorrow. Later this week, we’d get plywood and house wrap up on the exterior walls so the place would begin to resemble a home. Then subcontractors would show to get started on HVAC, electrical and plumbing.

  The next few weeks would be busy, and I prayed it might keep my mind off Quinn.

  Quinn, the woman who’d stayed in my bed all night, then disappeared this morning without a word.

  So much for her goodbye.

  I’d spent the day mulling it over and still couldn’t decide if I was mad that she’d snuck out at five thirty this morning or glad that she hadn’t woken me before leaving.

  Considering I’d been in a relatively good mood today, probably the latter.

  I didn’t want a difficult goodbye, and I suspected she didn’t either. Which was why I’d let her go, feigning sleep as she’d collected her clothes and tiptoed out the door.

  Quinn would be in Seattle by now, home and back to her rich life.

  It was strange to know she was gone from Bozeman and not feel angry. Angry at her. At myself.

  She wasn’t the girl who’d walked away from me at the airport and never looked back. She was Quinn. Destined for fame. Living her dream.

  This time, she was gone, and I was happy for her.

  But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to miss her. Damn, would I miss her.

  But I wanted her to live that great life.

  Even if it meant she was away from me.

  “Here you go.” I tossed Colin’s backpack beside his booster seat and climbed in the truck. “Let’s go home.”

  The moment we walked into the house from the garage, Colin went right for the fridge. “Can I have a snack?”

  “How about we do an early dinner?” Lunch had been a long time ago and my stomach rumbled. I stepped up behind Colin, both of us surveying the contents of the fridge. A trip to the grocery store was overdue. “What do we have? Leftover Chinese? Or burgers?”

  “Burgers.”

  I ruffled his hair. “You got it.”

  This was good. This was normal. After last week, with the rehearsals and the added family dinners, we needed normal.

  I went to the back deck and fired up the grill. Colin came racing out behind me with a baseball and two gloves, mine and his.

  “Grounders or pop flies?” I asked.

  “Pitches.”

  I chuckled. My son loved playing catch. He loved pitching the ball, but he dreaded the last ten minutes when I’d force him to practice fielding.

  Too tired to argue, I threw the ball until the grill was plenty warm enough, then I went inside and prepped our burgers. When they were done, we opted to eat outside on the deck, me inhaling two burgers as Colin devoured one.

  “I’m going to clean up these dishes, then take a shower.” The stink from a sweaty day was potent.

  “Okay.” He stayed in his chair, his eyes drifting to the yard, which made me pause. Colin was a kid who usually bolted to play the second he was dismissed from the dinner table. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at nothing.

  “What’s up, bud? Got something on your mind?”

  “Simone asked me who my mom was today.”

  My stomach dropped. My head spun and I fought to keep my breathing steady. The topic of Dianne in my son’s company flipped the panic switch. “And what did you say?”

  “I told her I didn’t have a mom. And she said everyone has a mom. And I told her that I know everyone has a mom, and that I know I have a mom. But I don’t have a mom mom, like a real mom.”

  “Whoa. Slow down.” His chest was heaving. “Take a breath.”

  He obeyed. “How come?”

  It wasn’t the first time Colin had asked me about his mother, but it was the first time he seemed able to comprehend the answer and pick it apart. To dig deeper. He’d been too young for our other conversations and had accepted my simple explanation.

  Every family was different.

  This time, he’d want the full story. My son was growing up and wanted to understand why he was different.

  “Being a mother is the hardest job in the world.” My throat was rough and my voice hoarse.

  I’d practiced this. I’d thought about what to say when the day came, but no matter how many times I’d run it through in my mind, it was still the hardest conversation I’d ever had with my son.

  And we’d only just begun.

  “Your mother was—is—a smart person. And she was smart enough to know that she wouldn’t have done a good job as your mom. That you’d be happier living with me.”

  He thought about my words, his face set in firm concentration. “She didn’t want me?”

  The answer was yes.

  How did I tell him the truth? That his mother didn’t want to be a mother?

  Honestly. I’d promised myself that when he asked, I’d answer with honesty.

  “No, bud. She didn’t want to be a mom. And that has nothing to do with you. Nothing at all. Does that make sense?”

  He shrugged.

  “But I wanted to be a dad. And I feel darn lucky that I got you as my kid.”

  Colin stayed quiet, his gaze fixed firmly on his plate and the few potato chips he’d left behind.

  “Are you good with that? You and me? The two of us?”

  He nodded.

  “I love you, son. I know it’s not fair, having only me when other kids have both a mom and a dad.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever get married?”

  That question, I hadn’t expected. “I, uh . . . I don’t know. Maybe someday. Maybe not.”

  “What about Quinn? Would you marry her someday?”

  “No.” I stretched my hand across the table, covering his. “Quinn is just a friend. Your friend.”

  “You don’t like her?”

  “Yes, I like her. But she lives in Seattle.”

  “And she’s famous.” His eyes got wide, like Quinn’s fame meant she was out of my league.

  I chuckled. “And she’s famous.”

  Colin blew out a deep breath, sinking heavily into the chair as the wheels in his mind whirled.

  He’d gotten so big these past few years, so independent. I didn’t have to run his bath every night. He picked out his own clothes and brushed his own teeth.

  He was my greatest source of pride. This boy—this talented, kind and funny boy—who was feeling lost today because he didn’t have a mother.

  “When people ask about your mother, is it hard to tell them you don’t have one?”

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  “What would make it easier?”

  “I don’t know,” he muttered.

  It was not fun to be a kid who was different. Not at this or any age.

&n
bsp; “I know I’ve told you this before, but every family is different. Some have a mom and dad. Some just a mom. Some just a dad. Some have two moms or two dads. All that matters is there is love in a family. We have love. Lots of it. If you ever want to talk, I’m here. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, Dad.”

  “Do you have any questions about her?” I’d do my best to answer even though I didn’t have a lot to go on.

  He nodded and slipped his hand free, dropping it to his lap. “What’s her name?”

  “Dianne.” I wished I could tell him that she’d given him something—his nose or his eyes—but Colin was me entirely. “Any others?”

  He shook his head. “Can I go practice my drums?”

  “Sure. I’m going to hop in the shower.”

  He stood, picking up his plate. I followed with my own to the kitchen sink, watching with a twisting heart as he dumped the rest of the crumbs in the trash and loaded the plate into the dishwasher.

  Stop. Stop growing.

  Colin took off, racing toward the basement, only pausing on the top stair as the doorbell chimed.

  “Can I?” He knew to ask before opening the door, but I wasn’t expecting anyone.

  “No. Hold up.” I crossed the room, joining him by the door that I’d eventually replace because I wanted one with a window, then flipped the deadbolt.

  To Quinn.

  My heart swelled. There she was, not gone but standing at my front door wearing jeans, a tank top and a smile that stole my breath.

  “Quinn!” Colin flew at her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  The hug surprised us both, but she recovered first, ruffling his hair and putting an arm around his shoulders. “Hey.”

  “I thought you were leaving,” he said.

  “Want to hear something crazy?”

  He nodded. “What?”

  “Nixon stole my airplane. He just stole it.” She threw her hands in the air. “He left me stranded here, so I thought I’d come over and see if we could jam for a while.”

  “Yes. Yes! We are so gonna jam.” He took her hand and dragged her inside.