She patted my knee, and I watched her get up. I pointed toward the kitchen, and she went off to seek it, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Surprisingly enough, though, I found myself thinking about her more than anything else.
And what might happen to us once my father’s funeral took place.
One step at a time, son. You’ve always been someone who wants to eat your cake before you get it cooked.
My father’s voice echoed off the corners of my mind, and it made me chuckle. No, not chuckle. It made me laugh. It made me laugh so hard I held my stomach. And as I sat there on the couch, covered in a blanket my mother made for him, something akin to relief filled my body. I couldn't explain it. I wasn’t sure what it was. But, a peace came over me I hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
A peace that could only be described as gracious.
“Thank you, God,” I whispered.
With that, I pushed myself up from the couch. I folded the blanket and fluttered it over the arm of the couch, watching it settle into its rightful place. Then, I started with the room I was standing in. I picked things up and dusted things off. I went in search of Clorox wipes and began wiping things down. I busted out the vacuum cleaner and ran it over the carpet, wondering why in the world my father decided to keep that one room carpeted when everything else was hardwood.
Then again, my father had always been quirky like that.
Dell and I danced from room to room, getting all the basic chores done. And the more we cleaned, the more the musty smell of the place lifted. She washed dishes while I swept floors. She folded blankets while I changed sheets on the bed. Going into my father’s room was one of the hardest things imaginable. But, being in his room after opening the door was surprisingly easy.
“How you feeling in here?” Dell asked.
I watched her stand in the doorway of my father’s bedroom as a soft smile crossed that delicate face of hers.
“Like I’m moving through lead,” I said.
Her eyebrows rose. “Heck of an image there.”
“I don’t know. It’s the only way to describe how physically taxing all of this feels.”
“Well, I wanted to check in on you. I’m going to wipe down the dining room table, then I think all that’s left is that downstairs bathroom.”
I waved at her. “You let me tend to the bathroom. You’ve done enough.”
“Oh, I wasn’t going to clean that bathroom. I was just letting you know it’s there to be cleaned.”
I grinned. “Noted.”
She winked at me before pushing off the doorway to head down the hallway. But pretty soon, I heard the soft giggles of her voice. I heard her snickering and laughing softly, as if she were trying to stifle the sound.
I was much too curious about it to sit in my father’s room.
“What’s all this racket out here?” I asked.
I poked my head out of the room and saw Dell rip her hand away from a picture on the wall.
“Sorry. I just--these pictures.”
I walked over to stand beside her. “What about them?”
She pointed to my kindergarten photo. “Did you really have a haircut like this at one point?”
“Actually, my father hung this picture up as a punishment.”
“Wait, what?”
I chuckled. “Yeah. I, uh… Mom took me to the barber in town the day before my picture day, but I decided to take scissors to my hair after everyone went to bed. I woke up the next morning with those nice uneven patches of hair strewn across my forehead, and Mom wanted to go get them fixed. But, Dad told my mother to leave it because it would teach me a lesson in disobeying the rules of the house.”
“What rule did you disobey? I mean, other than cutting your hair with scissors.”
I wrapped my arm around her. “No going into the craft box after bed.”
“Oh, man. My parents would’ve never trusted me with something like that in kindergarten. I don’t think I had my first craft box until I was in third or fourth grade.”
“My father was a big supporter of letting kids experience the consequences of their actions. I remember, to this day, the knock-down-drag-out fight my parents had over that. Mom didn’t want my haircut to ruin my picture day, but Dad argued that once my hair grew back, we could get professional photos done. That seemed to satiate her enough.”
“Did you ever take those professional pictures?”
I pointed to the picture above it. “Yeah. We did.”
We stood there, talking about the collage of pictures on the wall. I told her about my days playing tee-ball in the summer and laughed with her over the one picture of me in my gymnastics spandex shorts that my mother kept.
And mounted on the hallway wall.
“My gosh, your face says it all!” she exclaimed through her laughter.
I snorted. “Let’s just say I didn’t stick with gymnastics for long.”
Then, she pointed to one at the top. “What’s that one?”
I studied the picnic scene for a moment as the memory washed over me. I let it drag me under, overwhelming me with its own emotions. I drew in a deep breath, preparing the story. Preparing myself for a barrage of questions that might come once I answered.
But I wanted to answer.
I enjoyed telling Dell about my life in that house.
“That was the last picture me and my parents took together when my mother was still alive.”
She rubbed my back. “Oh, Adam.”
I smiled fondly. “We went on a picnic in the town park, and Dad asked Ralph to take a picture of us.”
“The electrician guy that helped us out?”
“That’s the one.”
“Wow, that’s awesome.”
I nodded. “Ralph and my mother were very good friends. I played with Ralph’s son growing up a lot, so our families were always together. But, that’s not what I remember so fondly about that day.”
“What is it you remember?”
I paused. “I remember laying my head on my mother’s shoulder and her telling me that one day, it would be my responsibility to care for a family. That one day, I’d be doing those same things with my wife and child. Or children.”
I felt her stare on me as my mother’s voice echoed off the corners of my mind. Reminding me. Urging me on. Becoming my cheerleader, like she always had been.
“Is that all she said?” Dell asked.
My gaze met her stare. “She said, ‘one day, Adam, you’ll be here with your family. Like we are right now. And I want you to know something. I want you to know that I’ll be the wind in the trees. Making sure the two of you always stay close to one another. Even if I have to make you trip and fall’.”
She blinked back tears. “That’s beautiful, Adam.”
“It’s also true. I feel her every time the wind blows. Every time it howls by the window. I feel her every time a storm rolls through, or a summer breeze caresses my cheek. Mom always loved the sound of the wind. And every time it blows, I stop and think of her.”
She sniffled. “Well, make me cry, why don't you?”
“Hey, I can’t be the only one blubbering all day today.”
She leaned her head against my shoulder, and I held her close. We stared at those pictures for what seemed like ages, reveling in the moment. I closed my eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, I pulled Dell closer into me, feeling her face tuck itself into the crook of my neck. My arms wrapped around her graceful form. I felt my lips gravitating to the top of her head. As I pressed a mindless kiss to the top of it, I heard her sigh with relief.
A sound that forever etched itself onto my heart.
“You know, I used to play softball growing up,” Dell murmured.
“Really now?”
She nodded. “I mean, I never got into a spandex leotard for gymnastics, but--.”
“It’s not a leotard. It’s spandex shorts.”
She giggled. “Might as well be a leotard. Because I don’t think you’d look any more
ridiculous.”
I snickered. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You go ahead and make jokes.”
Her head fell back with laughter, and I smiled as she clung to me. I walked her back into the wall, pressing my chest to hers. Dell’s laughter stopped quickly. She didn’t even try to conceal her ogling as I cupped her cheek. I let my thumb slide along her lower lip, studying it. Feeling it. Drinking it all in. Reveling in its pillowy softness before she puckered them, kissing the tip of my thumb.
“You’re exquisite,” I murmured.
“I’m also hungry,” she whispered.
I grinned. “Can’t read a room, huh?”
“Has anyone told you that you have beautiful eyes?”
“They have, yes.”
She paused. “Did that get the mood back?”
My forehead fell against hers. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful, in general?”
I drew in a deep breath and felt the heat of her skin sear the palm of my hand. Her breath pulsed against my lips, quickening like the beat of her heart against my chest. Her legs trembled. Her nose nuzzled mine. As we both stood there against the wall of my childhood home, I swallowed the urge to kiss her. I swallowed the urge to distract us from the point of us being here. Together. With almost nothing in the way. But, it didn’t stop me from realizing a stark truth that took my breath away.
I’d fallen in love with the woman.
And I knew there was no going back.
“Why don’t we order some food. Hmm?” I asked.
She sighed against my lips. “I could eat.”
“What’s your poison?”
“Actually, I have a better idea.”
I pulled back slightly to gaze into her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
She smiled. “What did your father like to eat the most?”
“You can’t get any more perfect,” I whispered.
“What was that?”
I blinked. “Pot roast.”
“Pot roast?”
I took a step back. “What my father enjoyed eating the most. It was always my mother’s pot roast. Every time she asked, that’s what he would request. Complete with potatoes, carrots, whole beets, and a cobbler for dessert.”
“Mmm, cobbler. What kind?”
“Blackberry.”
She groaned. “Oh, that’s my favorite, too. Do we have any ice cream here?”
I took her hand. “My father had a serious sweet tooth. If you can dream it up, he’s got it stashed around here somewhere. I’m sure there’s some ice cream somewhere in the freezer. Or the deep freezer. Or his miniature fridge-freezer in the bedroom.”
“Wow. You weren’t joking about that, were you?”
“I really, really wasn’t.”
She followed me down the stairs. “Then, let’s do that. A nice pot roast, a cobbler, and some fresh iced tea. Food is always a good balm for the soul, and we can honor your father with it in the process.”
Yep. I’d fallen head over heels in love with the woman.
As we entered the kitchen together with Dell clutching my hand tightly, the wind kicked up outside. It howled against the window and swirled snow tornadoes in the backyard. The snow danced for our viewing pleasure while we gathered all the ingredients for my first meal in that place without either of my parents. As I stood there, listening to the howling of the wind carry my mother’s whispering voice, I couldn’t make out what she was saying. But, I felt it. I felt happiness. I felt relief. I felt joy as a shiver of relaxation trickled down my spine. All the while, the wind blew heavily outside.
Almost as if my mother were rejoicing.
Almost as if she were laughing.
Almost as if she was at peace herself.
Chapter Twenty: Kendall
“Can you pass me the pepper?” I asked.
“Oh, a woman after my own heart.”
I grinned. “A pepper lover, huh?”
“If my food doesn’t look like you’ve dropped it on the ground, there isn’t enough.”
I barked with laughter as I took the pepper from him. I shook some over the vegetables and rubbed it in well before placing everything on the sheet pan. Adam had taken the liberty of searing the outside of the massive pot roast while I prepared the vegetables to go into the oven with it. And already, things smelled delightful.
“I don’t know about you, but my stomach is about to start eating itself,” he said.
I smiled. “Well, I hope you can hold off for another hour. Because that’s how long this thing is supposed to cook in the oven.”
“Another hour? Whatever shall we do, Dell!? That’s like, ages. I’ll have starved from the inside out before then.”
“You’re just as dramatic as my brother, you know that?”
He chuckled. “It’s making you smile, though. So, it’s worth it.”
I peeked over at the man in the kitchen with me before I slid the food into the oven. Every time I looked at him, I felt my stomach tie itself in knots. I felt butterflies work their way up my throat. I felt nervous around him but in a good way. And I worried about what that might mean. I remembered back to a time when I got attached to people easily. After losing my mother, I could have sworn my ex was the love of my life. The man I was supposed to be with.
But, his antics proved otherwise. I ended up more broken-hearted than I had been before I met him.
Adam deserved better than that.
He deserved better than what I went through.
Still, the pull I felt toward him was unmistakable. I enjoyed talking with him. Getting to know him. Sitting in silence with him. I enjoyed his presence. And when it wasn’t around? I missed him.
I love this man.
The realization dawned on me like the sun slowly cresting the horizon. I repeated those words in my mind as I watched Adam cull together the ingredients for our cobbler. I watched his fluid movements. The way he whispered to himself as if he were talking himself through the recipe. Every little moment, from the way he gripped the sugar measuring cup to the way he plopped a blackberry into his mouth, left me speechless.
I had fallen in love with Adam.
I just didn’t know what to do about it.
“Enjoying the view?”
His voice snapped me out of my trance, and I saw him grinning at me.
“Sorry. I was thinking about something.”
He playfully flexed his arm. “Thinking about these guns over here?”
I giggled. “Don’t you wish.”
He winked. “Maybe I do.”
Excitement rushed through my veins. “Want to put on a movie or something while everything cooks?”
“Let me finish throwing this thing together, and then I’ll come over there,” he said as he nodded toward the doorway. “The living room’s through there. Pick out whatever you want to watch. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I journeyed out of the kitchen and made myself comfortable. But, I hardly paid attention to the television. It wasn’t too long before Adam followed behind me, and the second he sat down, he wrapped his arm around me. His comforting grip beckoned me to his side. I laid my head on his shoulder, and he pulled me close. I let my eyes fall closed as his presence washed over me, like a river rushing over smooth rocks before making its plunge over the earth’s edge.
“Thank you, Dell.”
I furrowed my brow. “For what?”
“For everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know how in the world I’m going to repay you for it.”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to repay me. I promise it’s not a problem.”
“You sure about that?”
“Definitely. Everyone needs someone during a time like this. I’m glad I could be there for you.”
Silence hung between us. “Is that the only reason you’re here?”
I laughed, trying to diffuse the tension. “Well, I was the one that got you to the hospital after you diva-stormed out of my cabin.”
> But he didn’t laugh with me. So, I sat up and figured we might as well talk about the thing hanging between us. Since he was going to beat me to the punch, anyway.
I faced him. “No, Adam. That’s not the only reason why I’m here.”
His eyes sparkled. “It isn’t?”
“No. It’s not. I just worry that…”
He took my hand. “Whatever it is, I’m here with you. I’m here for you. Like you’re here for me.”
I drew in a deep breath. “I suddenly remembered what happened after I lost my mother, you know? I latched onto someone I shouldn't have, and it did more damage than good.”
“What happened?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters now is--.”
“Don’t do that.”
I paused. “Do what?”
“Shut yourself down like that. It’s your defense mechanism. I’m not here to fight you, Dell. You don’t have to always be on your guard with me.”
I snickered. “Kind of an automatic reaction at this point.”
He scooted closer. “I want you to talk to me. I want to be here to listen. I want to hold you up, just like you’ve been holding me up. Let me give you that, Dell. Let me be here for you, too.”
His words filled me with strength. “Lionel wasn’t a bad man.”
“Your ex.”
“Yes. My ex. He just--I don’t know. He needed this constant reassurance that I needed him.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. Saying that he isolated me seems a bit too manipulative. But, in some respects, that’s what happened.”
“Give me an example.”
I shrugged. “Like, I’d get up on a Saturday and want to go have brunch with a coworker or something. And suddenly, he wouldn't be feeling well. Then, I’d have to choose between brunch and him. And I’d choose him, right? Because he’s not feeling.”
He nodded. “Right.”
“Then, I’d schedule some time to come home, and suddenly, he’d have some work thing that would pop up. And despite constantly asking him, he would tell me it’s okay to go. That it was okay to go home without him. So, I’d go. But then I’d get all of these passive-aggressive text messages about how he misses me and how I should be there with him. How he’s struggling without me and asking me to book a sooner flight home. Even though his words told me it was okay for me to go home without him, he didn’t really mean them. And that messed with me a lot.”
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