by Farlow, LK
There is an apple crumb pie in the oven, along with scalloped potatoes. On the stove, she has homemade baked beans simmering and a pot of water boiling for her macaroni—she made the cheese sauce last night.
“Gonna go check the grill,” I call over my shoulder, Tatum following along behind me like a pint-sized shadow. But I don’t mind—I love that she wants to be around me, and I especially enjoy her enthusiasm for cooking. It’s almost crazy how much alike we are, even without her knowing me for most of her life.
“How you knows when it’s ready?” Tatum asks, standing on her tippy-toes in an effort to see.
“Careful, pretty girl. It’s hot.”
She watches with wide eyes as I hover my hand, palm side down, over the grate of the grill. “You be careful too, Daddy.”
I grin at her. “Will you help me count?”
Together we begin counting, only making it to five before I have to pull my hand away. “Why we did dat?”
“How long I can keep my hand there tells me how hot the grill is. It still needs a bit more heat to get a good sear on the chicken.”
“Whoa!” My girl sounds thoroughly impressed. “I try it?”
“Maybe when you’re a little bit older.”
She sticks her lower lip out in the cutest pout known to mankind. “Fine. I go help Mommy.” She pivots and runs toward the house, leaving me to chuckle in her wake.
Back inside, Natalie is chopping away at a head of lettuce, presumably for a salad. “Where’s Tatum?” I ask, coming up behind her and dropping a kiss to her neck after checking the coast was clear.
“She didn’t like that I didn’t have a job for her, so she is up in her room playing.”
“It’s sweet how much she likes to help.”
Natalie nods her agreement, too focused on making uniform cuts on her tomatoes to reply verbally.
I’m about to ask her how she’s feeling when the sound of my doorbell rings through the house. Tatum comes flying down the stairs. “Nana! Popsie! Der here!”
I catch her at the landing and swoop her up and around my shoulders like a toddler scarf. Her giggles are contagious, and by the time we make it to the door, we’re both laughing.
I swing it open, only to be met with a triple whammy—all of our guests have arrived together, and poor Tatum doesn’t know who to greet first. She wiggles and I set her down on the floor. “Nana! Popsie! Uncle Nate! Miss Jenny! Dis is the best day ever!”
We all stand there awkwardly, until Luke—Mr. Reynolds—drops to his knees and engulfs his granddaughter in a bear hug. Melanie is quick to follow suit, peppering Tatum’s face with kisses, murmuring in between then how much she has missed her.
After their reunion, Tatum wraps herself around Jenny’s leg, tugging on the hem of her top, begging her to hold her. “Miss Jenny! You’re here! You watch Trolls with me?”
Before Jenny can reply, Nate slaps a hand over his chest. “Hello? What am I? Chopped liver?”
Tatum cracks up. “Ew. No. Liber is yuck.”
“Then get over here and hug me, Tater Tot!” Jenny passes Tatum to Nate, and I notice her giving him a slow perusal—how interesting. Nat will have a field day with that.
“Uncle Nate, you wants to see my room?” Tatum asks, batting her lashes up at my best friend.
“You know I do.”
She squeals in his arms. “You too, Miss Jenny! You’ll love it!”
Together, the three of them set off up the stairs, while I shut the front door and head back toward the kitchen. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Natalie and her mother are making small talk, while her dad silently bores a hole into her head with his laser focus.
“We’re glad y’all could make it,” I say, and Natalie smiles gratefully.
“Thanks for inviting us,” Melanie says, but her tone lacks the warmness it used to hold when she spoke to me. As much as I love Tatum, and as much as I would never trade her or give her up for anything, I can’t say it doesn’t hurt to get the cold shoulder from Melanie and Luke. They truly were like second parents to me growing up.
“Can I get y’all something to drink?” I walk over to the fridge, swinging the double doors open wide. “I’ve got beer, wine, lemonade with fresh mint, tea, water.”
“You drink in front of Tatum?” Mr. Reynolds barks out, and my hackles rise.
“Do we have a drink with a meal in front of Tatum? You betcha. Do we get drunk? Absolutely not.” I’m not sure what he’s getting at, especially seeing as a drink or two—especially during football season—was a common occurrence in the Reynolds household growing up.
He steps a little closer to his wife as if looking for back up. “You think that sets a good example?”
I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Natalie, on the other hand, looks ready to spit fire. Gently, I place my hand over hers—something both of her parents catch—letting her know that I’ve got this. She pauses and looks down at the now mangled carrot she was chopping and rolls her eyes.
“You know,” I say, trying to keep my tone level. “I certainly don’t think it’s a bad example. We never over-imbibe. We never have more than a drink with dinner. Nothing wrong with that.”
Natalie’s dad huffs like a bull about to charge a red flag. “And you know what’s best for her after being a father for all of ten minutes?”
Melanie looks torn between being horrified by her husband’s behavior and wanting to support him out of obligation.
“Why can’t you just get over this?” Natalie screams. “Even excusing that I’m your only daughter, are you so prideful and stubborn you’d risk your relationship with Tatum over something that really has nothing to do with you?”
“Natalie! Luke! Enough!” Melanie yells forcefully. “I’ve allowed this to drag on far too long. Your daughter is right.”
At the sound of our raised voices, Tatum flies into the room, with Nate and Jenny hot on her heels. She flings herself into her mother’s arms before reaching out and grabbing my sleeve to pull me closer. “Why’s eb-ry one being so loud? I don’t like it.” Her eyes are brimming with tears, and suddenly, I feel like a rotten jackass. What the hell are we thinking hashing this out where she can hear?
I place my hand on her cheek and guide her eyes to mine. “Sometimes grownups disagree and argue. We’re sorry we upset you, pretty girl.”
She sniffles and clings tighter to Natalie. “Why you mad? Did Popsie break your toy?”
Nat buries her face in Tatum’s hair. “No, Tater Tot, Popsie didn’t break one of my toys. We’re just…having a disagreement. Kind of like when I ask you to pick up your room, and you don’t want to. Everything’s okay.”
I’m hoping like hell Tatum’s presence will be what it takes to break this ice and to get us on the path to a resolution, but a glance over to Luke tells me that’s not going to be the case—he looks utterly repulsed.
“How sweet,” he sneers. “Playing house doesn’t make up for all of the—”
I have no desire to hear whatever this man has to say. In the brief amount of time he’s been under my roof, he’s made both Natalie and Tatum cry, and that shit’s not going to fly with me.
“That’s enough.” I keep my tone low, as not to scare my daughter, but it’s also deadly, showing just how serious I am. “With all due respect, sir, your daughter was faced with a situation far beyond her years, and while she definitely made mistakes, she handled it in the way she thought was best at the time. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you sit here and make the woman I love feel even worse than she already does. We’re both moving forward, and you can either move with us or get left behind.”
All of the women in the room are misty-eyed, and when Nat palms my cheek and turns my face toward hers, the full impact of what I just said hits me like a freight train.
“You love…me?” Her voice is so small and unsure.
As I look at her, cradling our daughter close to her chest, I swear to God I see our
past and our future flash before my eyes. “I do. I really do love you, Nat.”
A small sob squeaks past her lips. “I-I love you too.” She looks down at her feet and then back at me. “I always have.”
“Does dis mean your mama’s boyfriend now?” Tatum asks, reaching for me.
I take her into my arms and touch my nose to hers. “Yeah, pretty girl, I guess it does.”
“You need to talk to them,” Melanie hisses at her husband under her breath, but all I can focus on is what Jenny murmurs from behind them.
“Lord Jesus, remind me to never settle for anyone who doesn’t look at me the way you look at Natalie.”
Natalie’s brows pinch together. “H-how does he look at me?”
“With fire and forever dancing his eyes, babe. He looks at you like you’re his lifeline.”
Melanie places her hand lightly on her husband’s arm. “I mean it, Luke. I’ve been patient, but this has to stop.” He gives her a terse nod. “Jenny, sweetheart, could you take Tatum out in the backyard to play?”
“Of…of course. Come on, girlfriend, let’s go.” She makes her way over to where we’re standing and takes Tatum from my arms.
“I go play, but no more yelling, okay?” Tatum demands, crossing her arms over her chest.
Natalie boops her nose. “Deal.”
39
Natalie
A heavy silence settles over the room after Jenny and Tatum leave. Nate tries to follow, but Mom stops him. “You should stay too.”
Looking resigned, my brother nods.
I’m a yo-yo of emotions right now: Elated to learn that Alden returns my feelings; he wouldn’t love me if he hadn’t let go of my transgressions, right? Sad and confused over the way my dad is behaving. And nervous for whatever bomb he’s about to drop.
Alden places his hand on the small of my back, rubbing his thumb in soft, soothing circles. “Let me turn off the grill and then we can head into the living room to talk.”
“I’ve got it, man. You stay with her,” Nate says, clapping Alden on the back as he walks past us.
The four of us go ahead and get settled in the living room. I’m so thankful to have Alden at my side. I know with him I can face whatever is about to come our way.
My parents snag the club chairs and when Nate joins us, he lowers himself down to the floor and leans back against the far side of the couch.
When neither of my parents make a move to talk, I lose the little bit of patience I have left. “Are we just going to sit around and stare at each other? If so, I’m gonna pass.”
“Just give your dad a second, this is hard for him,” Mom says, her voice as calm and even as ever.
I stifle the urge to roll my eyes, but just barely.
“Your aunt Linda,” Dad starts and I can’t help but wonder my deceased aunt whom I’ve never even met could possibly have to do with anything.
He seems to get choked up over the mere mention of her name, and Mom reaches over and clasps his hand in a show of support. He clears his throat and continues. “Your aunt Linda and I were really close growing up, kind of the way you and Nate are. She always wanted to tag along with me and my friends.”
Nate and I exchange baffled glances but keep quiet.
“When she was a senior in high school, I brought her with me to a college party and—” His words break off again, and I swear he has tears gathering. “I didn’t want her to hover like a shadow all night, so I grabbed her a beer and sent her on her way...a few of her friends were there.”
When his tears actually fall, I know this story doesn’t have a happy ending. Dad drops his head to his hands and sobs openly while my mother soothingly rubs his back, murmuring words of comfort.
“Sh-she was a-a-assaulted. Raped. By the man I called my closest friend.” He pauses again, and my heart aches for him. Alden reaches an arm around me and pulls me into him, silently giving me the comfort I desperately need.
“She didn’t tell anyone what happened that night. Not until about eight weeks later, when she found out she was pregnant. She ended up losing the baby, and she blamed herself. She never was right after that. And Natalie, oh my sweet Nat Bug…everything with you was so reminiscent of her. Then we find out Alden is the responsible party, and all of the sudden it’s like history’s repeating itself right before my very eyes.”
“But Dad, Alden didn’t—”
He waves me off. “I know. I know. But I couldn’t help but draw parallels. Every parent wants the best for their child, and I couldn’t help but feel I had somehow failed you the same way I failed her. You got pregnant. As a minor. Under my roof. How can I not hold myself responsible?”
I rush off the couch and throw myself into my dad’s arms. “Oh, Dad. No. You’ve always been such a good father. You’ve always been there for me. And Nate. And even Alden. We’re all so lucky to have you.” His large frame shakes as he continues to cry.
I ramble on, trying my best to give him peace. “Alden would never hurt me, Dad. He’s a good man, and what happened between us was consensual, even if we were under the influence. I knew what I was doing, and as much as you don’t want to hear this, I initiated it. I had this…this plan. Over the years, my feelings morphed from a childhood crush to more. So much more. I knew even then that I loved him, Dad. And I thought that if we…you know…that he would see we were meant to be together. Obviously, things backfired a little. But, I got my sweet Tatum and now…now things with Alden are falling into place. I’m so sorry this brought back all of those memories, but I promise you, it was not the same thing.”
Nate stands and joins us, wrapping the both of us in a hug. “What happened with Aunt Linda wasn’t your fault, Dad.”
“No,” Dad argues. “If I hadn’t—”
Alden speaks up, cutting him off. “Luke, you’ve always been like a second father to me. Thanks to your influence in my life, I know I’ll be the best dad to Tatum possible. Throughout my childhood, you taught us through your actions that fatherhood is a privilege and not a right. You’re a good man who has suffered through unspeakable loss, and I hate that. But, sir, I can guarantee you, I love your daughter, and I would never, ever hurt her in any way or take advantage of her in any way. She’s precious to me.” Alden’s feelings for me, and our daughter, are clearly on display for the entire room to see—and when his eyes also cloud over with emotion, I know bone deep he means every word.
By this point, there’s not a dry eye in the room. “I know, son. I know.”
Nate gives us one last squeeze before returning to his spot on the floor, but I stay with my dad, hugging him tight for a few more minutes. “I’m so sorry, Nat Bug,” he whispers gruffly into my hair.
“It’s okay—”
“No, it’s not. I…I think maybe I need to talk to someone about this. Your mom has been begging me to for years. I think now it’s time.”
I pull back from our embrace and look him in the eye. “I think that’s a really good idea, Dad. And I…I’m proud of you.” I kiss his forehead and move back to Alden’s side.
For a few minutes, we all sit in silence, absorbing the reality of all of the truths that just came to light. That is, until we hear the sound of little feet running across the hardwood accompanied by Tatum yelling, “I know, Miss Jenny. But I gots to potty now!”
We all laugh and take that as our cue to disband.
“Y’all still hungry?” Alden asks.
My dad pats his belly. “I could eat. If you still want us to join you.”
“Wouldn’t be the same without you, Luke.” Internally I beam at Alden’s words, loving that he loves my family the same way they love him.
“I’m gonna go check on Tatum,” I say, excusing myself. I head to the half bath, knowing that’s where my girl will be.
I find Jenny in the hall outside of the half bath. “Sorry,” she cringes. “I tried telling her to wait.”
“You’re all good. It was actually perfect timing.”
Jenny’s tight fac
ial features visibly relax. Poor girl—we haven’t really made the best first impression as a family unit, have we?
We both grin when from behind the bathroom door Tatum hollers, “Miss Jenny! I all done. I did a poop!”
“I’ve got this,” I tell my best friend, and Lord knows, she doesn’t need to be told twice. She makes a hasty retreat, bumping into my brother on the way. I watch, fascinated, as she tries to stop in time, but trips and faceplants into his chest.
He catches her and steadies her on her feet. “Whoa, girl. Slow down.”
She smiles up at him dazedly before moving around him and scurrying away. He turns my way, smirking. “Your friend’s an odd one.”
“She is not!” I start to argue, but Tatum interrupts.
“Hello! I did a poop! Helps!”
Nate laughs, backing away. “That’s all you.”
I open the bathroom and immediately bust out laughing. Tatum has practically the entire thing of toilet paper unrolled and is in the process of bunching it. “Tater Tot, what on earth are you doing?”
“No one came to help me, so I do it. I’m big!”
“Oh my, you are big. But, sweetheart, that much toilet paper will clog the toilet.”
I show her the proper amount to use, but she pushes it back my way. “No, you here now. You do it.” Good Lord, this kid. I help her take care of business, and we both wash our hands, humming the Happy Birthday song as we go, before heading out to join everyone else.
Back in the kitchen, the atmosphere is notably lighter, and my heart soars. This is how it should be when family gets together—easy and fun, not rife with tension and aggression.
Tatum notices it too. “Oh! Eb-ry one is happy now!” She claps her hands and twirls. “Dis is much gooder!” She walks over to where my parents are seated at the bar. “Nana. Popsie. I show y’all my room?”
“We would love that very much,” my mom tells her, and the three of them set off up the stairs.