by Tasha Ivey
When he doesn’t come through the door after a couple of minutes, though, I decide to see what he’s up to and go to the door, ready to jump the giant coward. But I don’t see him or his jeep. I only see the back of a tall, thin woman as she walks toward her silver sedan.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Did you need something?”
She spins on her heel, clutching at her chest. “Oh dear heavens. You scared me to death. I didn’t think anyone was home.”
I know who she is the moment I lay eyes on her. The dark hair. The sharp facial structure. The curve of her mouth. She’s Wes’ mother.
“Wes isn’t here, no. Probably won’t be all day.”
Her eyes fall to the ground. “You know about me, don’t you?”
“Not really, but I know enough.”
“I heard he’s selling his house because I came here.” She motions to the envelope she tucked into the wreath at the door. “I was hoping I could convince him that he doesn’t have to do that. I won’t come here again. I just thought . . .” She trails off, fighting emotion.
“I’ll make sure he sees it. He has this incredible ability of making rash decisions without giving anything a chance of working out, so don’t think it’s just you.”
Her dark eyes blink away some tears as they scrutinize me. “Am I correct in assuming that you’re his girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Oh, since you’re here alone, I just guessed. Sorry.”
“No apology necessary. Wes and I are just friends.”
She starts to back away. “Please just make sure he sees the note. I didn’t mean to freak him out by showing up here, and I don’t blame him at all for how he feels about me. I deserve it all. I was just hoping that, after all these years, I could reach out to him and make him understand why I did it. I just wanted to see his face one time, to see the man he has become. But I know I haven’t earned that right. I’m not his mom.”
I can see the pain in her eyes as she turns to her car and starts to get inside. It’s the same pain I see on his face when he talks about her—or rather, refuses to talk about her. “Wait a minute. Do you want to see a picture of him?”
Her hand flies to her mouth and covers a smile. “You’d do that for me?”
“Just a second.” I go back inside to find my cell phone, bringing up the text that Makenna sent me last night. It contains a picture of Wes and me that she took as soon as we arrived at the banquet last night. Meeting her halfway down the sidewalk, I hold the picture out to her. “This was taken just last night.”
Her hand covers her mouth again, but this time it’s to muffle the soft sobs escaping her throat. “That’s him? It’s really him? He’s so handsome. Oh, he has his dad’s eyes. And my cheekbones. He’s so . . . so perfect.”
Seeing her reaction to merely looking at a picture of him, I’m almost as emotional. I don’t know the story. I don’t know why she hasn’t been in his life all these years. Maybe he doesn’t really either. But her emotion is real. Pure and gut-wrenching. Twenty-six years of sorrow and regret is written on her face. And I can also see the unconditional love of a son that she doesn’t even know.
I may be wrong for doing this, but Wes has already pissed me off today, so I really don’t care. What would it hurt to make her day? “Do you have a cell phone or email address I can send the picture to?”
She gasps. “Oh, honey. You don’t have to do that. I know he wouldn’t want me to have it.”
I lay my hand on her forearm and look into her red, swollen eyes. “I’m in the picture, so I’m part owner, and I want you to have it. Maybe someday, down the road, you’ll get to see more than just an image on a screen.”
“I won’t be coming around again,” she says, sniffling. “It makes him uncomfortable, and I should’ve known he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. But I would love to have that picture, so I can always remember that he’s doing well and he’s happy.” She reaches into the car to get a card from her purse. “This is my cell number and email address, but don’t give it to Wesley. If you would, just save it in case the day comes that he might want to see me.”
“I’ll do that. And I’ll send you the picture.”
“Thank you so much, dear.” She nods and turns back to her car.
“Wait.” I step toward her as she turns around. “It’s really none of my business, and you don’t have to answer, but . . . why? After twenty-six years, why reach out to him now?”
She presses her lips into a grim line. “If I can come up with a good answer to that, I’ll let you know.”
As I watch her pull out of the drive, I feel a deep chill sweep over my skin. I have enough of my own crap to deal with, but something about that woman makes me want to help her, to help mend that broken relationship that wasn’t ever whole to begin with. Yeah, well, that would also require Wes to put away his stubborn pride for five damn minutes, and I don’t see that happening. Somehow, I think she already knows that.
“Hey, Mak,” I say into my phone, walking back into the house. “Did I wake you?”
“Hmmm?”
“Nevermind. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later.”
“Don’t you dare hang up the phone! Just give me a second to find my brain.” Blankets rustle in the background and footsteps slap onto the floor repeatedly. We have carpet in our bedrooms, so I’m guessing she didn’t sleep at home last night. “Okay, I’m up and slightly coherent, so . . . give me all the details. How was it?”
I groan. “Can we not go there right now? I promise to fill you in on everything later, but I need a favor. Where are you?”
“Shane’s parents’ guest house. Since you and Wes bailed on us last night, we just rode back with them. Shane’s car is here anyway. Why?”
“I guess he’s taking you home then, right?” Oh, I dread even asking. “Can you pick me up from Wes’ on the way?”
She’s silent for half a beat. “Why? Uh, and why is Wes’ vehicle here?”
Time to play the “we’re adults and know exactly what we’re doing” card. “Oh, he has some stuff to take care of today and mentioned he had to swing by there, too. I just thought I’d catch a ride with you to save him some time. Plus, I’d really like to get home and in my own clothes.”
“Well, okay. Ooh, I have an idea. Hang on.” Voices are muffled by what sounds like her hand on the phone. “Be ready. We’re leaving right now to pick you up.”
“Okay.” I barely manage to get the word out before the line goes dead. I know her all too well. She’s way too excited, so I know she has something up her sleeve.
While I wait, I email the picture to Wes’ mother, as promised, and I straighten the house up a little. As much as I want to leave it in a mess, I just don’t have it in me. And finally, I toss his t-shirt and boxers into the hamper in the utility room, and slip back into my dress. I don’t want to worry about returning them later, simply because we won’t have a “later.”
“Here. Put these on real quick. Shane’s waiting in the car.” Makenna shoves a pile of clothes at me as soon as I open the door. “Lucky for you, I packed a few extra sets of clothes to bring with me to Shane’s parents’ house.”
“You rock, Mak,” I call out on my way to the bathroom to change. Makenna and I have always shared shirts, but since she’s about four inches taller, her jeans are way too long. Her flip-flops are a bit too big, as well. But it’s way better than being stuck in that dress and heels any longer.
“It’s kinda weird seeing you here,” Makenna admits when I walk back out. She jerks her head toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. “Especially knowing what was going on back there last night.”
“How do you know we were in the bedroom?”
She jumps up from her seat on the couch and stares at it in horror. “Oh, please . . . not where I was just sitting.”
I laugh out loud and shake my head. “You’re safe.”
“Well, are you going to give me any details? Come on. Throw me a bone.”
>
“Okay, fine.” I roll my eyes. “It did finally happen.” I jerk my head toward the room like she did. “In there. Four times.”
Her mouth falls open. “Four?! I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“Not everyone is a newly devirginized saint, Makenna.” She has said for years that she was waiting until she got married before she had sex, and Shane has been surprisingly supportive of it, but she finally caved a few months ago. We all know they’re going to end up married anyway, so it was bound to happen.
She blushes deep crimson. “My sex life isn’t up for discussion at the moment. Let’s go.”
I knew that would shut her up. I make sure the front door is locked before following Makenna to the car. From the minute Shane’s eyes meet mine, I know he’s dying to know what happened last night. He’s such a girl sometimes. I’m guessing Wes didn’t give up any information this morning. But I don’t have to say a word.
“Your brother is a slut.” Makenna can hardly contain herself.
Shane huffs out a little laugh. “Do I even want to know what you’re referring to?”
I slide across the backseat and prop my elbows up on each of their seats. “No. You don’t. Shut it, Makenna.”
When no one says anything else, I lean back to buckle my seatbelt, and Shane pulls out on the main road. Before we can make it to the end of the street, though, she practically explodes. “Four times!”
He stops with a little more gusto than necessary and looks in the rearview mirror at me with one eyebrow cocked. “Oh yeah?”
“I hate you both. Shut up and drive.”
They burst into laughter as the car lurches forward, pulling out into traffic. The wrong way.
“Where are we going? Shouldn’t we have turned left?”
“No, we have to go back to my parents’ house. I promised we’d have brunch. Mom has been cooking all morning.”
Makenna’s head whips in my direction, and she wiggles her eyebrows. “And maybe Wes will stay, too.”
Damn it. He’s the last person I want to see right now. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to see me either. Now, I’m going to have to spend half my day with a fake smile plastered to my face, in the company of a man that couldn’t even give me the courtesy of driving me home this morning. And his entire family. Perfect.
I’m suddenly at a loss for why I thought all of this was such a good idea. I told myself it wouldn’t be a big deal. I knew it would end. I knew it would really suck. But after just one night, why do I even care? Just a few hours ago, I was tangled in the sheets with that man, knowing full well that it was over before it ever started. But damn it, leave it to me to make that kind of stupid arrangement with a guy that I actually really like.
“Does Wes know you came to pick me up?”
Shane glances at me in the mirror. “Nope. Mom said he and Dad were up in the office talking about something. But I didn’t ever see him.”
So he doesn’t even know I’m coming. Just great. “You didn’t tell your mom you were picking me up from Wes’ house, did you?”
“She didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell.” Shane laughs. “But she’s not stupid. We learned long ago not to hide anything from her. She always knows. I promise you, though, she won’t think anything of it.”
“Good.” I point my finger at each of them. “You two better behave yourselves.”
When they only respond by laughing at me, I know they’re going to be nothing but trouble. This is going to be the longest day of my life.
When Shane turns the car onto their street, I squint my eyes, searching for signs of Wes’ vehicle and praying that he’s long gone. But after spotting the slick black jeep in the front of the house, I slump back into my seat, running through a list of possible greetings when I inevitably run into him. What the hell am I supposed to say to him? How do I act?
But I can’t let this be weird, or everyone there will know exactly what’s going on. I have to keep cool. I have to act the same way as I did before all of this happened. Back to the way things were before I could imagine his mouth on every inch of my body.
Yeah, no big deal at all. Right.
“Callie, sweetheart, it’s so nice to see you again,” Mrs. Baxter gushes as soon as we walk through the door, rushing up to greet me with an enthusiastic embrace. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to join us for brunch.”
“Thank you. It’s lovely to see you again, too.”
“This used to be somewhat of a Sunday tradition around here, but now that the boys are all grown up, it’s so rare anymore. And now, they each have a lovely young lady at their side. It’s about time we evened the score a little. After being the only woman at the table for all these years, I’m just excited to have more to talk about than sports scores.”
She’s not kidding; she’s practically bursting with it. But then again, something tells me that she’s always this energetic and plain-spoken. She’s a small woman—about my size—but she’s as big as life. The way she carries herself, her smile, her demeanor. It all plays a part in the impact she has on everyone around her. She’s incredibly kind, but I can tell she’s a very no-nonsense kind of person, too. She’s a force to be reckoned with.
“Is there something I can do to help you, Mrs. Baxter?”
Shane snickers. “You just said a four-letter word—help. Guests aren’t allowed to use that word in this house.”
“Honey, you can call me Eve.” She smacks Shane on the back of the head. “Don’t listen to Shane. He just knows how neurotic I can be. As a matter of fact, you can help me. We can get to know each other while we chop the fruit for the salad. Shane and Makenna, you can be dears and set the table in the dining room for me.”
Great. Now, I’ve opened myself up to be in the kitchen with their mom. Alone. “Sure.”
After I wash my hands, she places a cutting board and knife at the end of the island and sets a bowl of fruit between us. “Okay, just chop it into bite-sized pieces and toss it into that glass bowl. Simple enough?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Although, I’ve never really chopped fruit before. How hard could it possibly be? I’ll just watch her and do whatever she does.
Eve plucks an apple from the bowl and gracefully slips the knife just underneath the skin, shearing it away and leaving only the juicy, white flesh behind. Umm, I think I’ll start with a banana. “So, Callie, Wes has told me a little about you. You know, when I first started college, I was actually an early childhood education major, too. It wasn’t until my second year that I took that great big U-turn into interior design.”
“Really? I’ve always wanted to teach. I can’t see myself doing anything different.”
“Well, I don’t know you very well, but if you can put up with my Wesley for very long, I know you definitely have the patience for it. He’d try the patience of Mother Teresa.”
I feel the corners of my mouth curl up in a soft grin. I think she and I will get along just fine. “No truer words have ever been spoken.”
She tosses two large handfuls of perfectly cubed apples into the bowl, and I’m just now finished with the first banana. “He’s a tough nut to crack sometimes, but if you’re persistent, he’ll split wide open.”
Why do I get the feeling she wanted to get me alone to give me relationship advice? This must be some sort of “how to date my son and live to tell about it” seminar. “Maybe you’re right. But he also has more than one shell. You might crack through one, but there are plenty more layers behind it.”
“Callie,” she begins, dropping her knife in the bowl and wiping her hands on a towel, “If you’ve already figured that out, it means that you’ve seen those layers. So many people don’t. Look, I’ve heard you’re a straight-shooter, and so am I. Let me level with you, okay? I know my son enough to know that he really likes you. He hasn’t talked to me about a girl since high school, and he actually told me about you a few days ago.”
This conversation just went from light to heavy without me even realizing i
t. “We’re just friends. It’s nothing serious.”
“Maybe not now, but it has some definite potential. He thinks he’s in control of his life and knows everything that he wants. I know all about his ‘no relationship’ rule, and I know why he feels that way. I’m sure you’ve already figured out that, at some point, he’s going to run. If you really want to be his friend, don’t let him. If one person would chase him, if they’d show him that quitting isn’t an option, then maybe he could break this cycle. Even if you aren’t interested in a romantic relationship with Wes, just showing him that you care enough to fight to keep him in your life . . . it would be a major breakthrough for him.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I scrape my pile of banana into the bowl and contemplate what she said as I start slicing another one. I can’t help feeling that this conversation is one of desperation. She wants her son to be happy. She wants him to break free of the chains holding him captive in his own dark soul. I wonder if she has this conversation with every girl he brings over, just begging anyone to help her save him.
Eve sinks her knife into an orange, pausing midway through to look up at me. “I know you went home with him last night. And I’m not telling you this to make you ashamed. I know about it because he told me you did. He also confessed to leaving you there this morning. Never, ever would Wesley feel the need to talk to me about something like that. He wanted my advice. Whether he takes it or not will be a different story. But when I found out you were coming here this morning, I knew I had to get you alone to talk. Regardless of what he says, regardless of how he acts, Callie, you’ve made a deep impression on him.”
“Well, he’s made quite the impression on me, too. I’ll certainly try to keep everything you’ve said in mind.”
She flashes a glance behind me and straightens, resuming her meticulous orange slicing. “Good. And the secret ingredient to my sauce that goes over the top is marshmallow fluff. It gives it the perfect amount of sweetness to balance the tart of the fruit.”