by Isabel Jolie
“No, no. I don’t want to make you give anything up. Dammit. Tell me when I can come visit. Too much time has passed. I need to see you. We need to have this conversation face to face.”
Of course he wants to have the conversation face to face. He can touch me, and my brain will go fuzzy. I’ll bounce around and be giddy because he’s near. And maybe he can pitch his little ol’ friends and family investment opportunity to my parents too.
“I’ll call you when I’m back from Paris.”
“Delilah, we can’t keep doing this. You’re shutting me out. You go days without responding to emails. Is that what you want? You want to shut me out? End things? Do you want to just be friends? Because I’m not sure we can keep up a friendship with the way things have been going.”
Tears stream down my face, and my whole brain goes berserk. The pain I’ve been so diligently numbing hurts so badly I struggle to breathe. And it’s his fault. I’ve been blissfully numb, and here he goes twirling up all the bloody, fricking emotions. “I’ve got to go.”
Chapter 22
Delilah
My suitcase bounces along the rough brick patio as I wheel it to the main house. When I approach the back porch, angry voices drift outside. Mom and Aunt Josie are at it again, fighting like sisters. They love each other ferociously and have a bond I’ve always envied.
“You didn’t even want two of your four children. I would have wanted all of them.” My mother’s outrage pours out in her furious tone, her words ringing with resentment and accusation. I leave my bag outside on the patio and creep forward to listen undetected.
“What? I wanted all my children. I love all of my children.” Josie’s voice breaks as she responds slowly, almost incredulous.
“No! No! You were like ‘oops, screwed up my birth control. Pregnant again! La-dee-dah!’” Mom is screeching now, and while I can’t see them, I can visualize her using her favorite outlandish dance hands.
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want them, Melinda. I just didn’t plan each of my pregnancies,” my aunt retorts, loud and firm.
“Yeah, well, I planned. I measured. I was poked and prodded. I worked for my one pregnancy. You will never know what that’s like!”
“Melinda, I am sorry you couldn’t have all of the children you wanted. I am sorry. But it doesn’t give you the right to steal Delilah’s life.”
My mom shrieks, “How dare you! You don’t judge me. I didn’t do anything any other person in my shoes wouldn’t do. She was supposed to come home. I simply stepped in before it became too difficult.”
I close my eyes and press my body up against the side of the house. I don’t want to hear any more, but I have nowhere to go. Sunlight bounces off the pool and catches my attention. A reflection of the porch settles over the still, clear water. The beams holding up the porch ceiling reflect in the shimmering surface like prison bars.
After a moment of silence, Josie’s calm voice responds, “You lied to her.”
“I did not! He is sick.”
“Yes. But he has many good years left.”
“You don’t know that. No one knows that. It will be awful when it gets bad. Delilah should be here. Why are you against me?”
“Damnit, Melinda, I’m not against you. I’m for Delilah. Jesus, will you listen to yourself?”
A warm hand grips my arm, and I scream. “Dad? Holy Mylanta, you scared the bejeezus out of me.” I place a hand over my pounding heart. Dad is wearing a custom dark suit, ready to head in for a board meeting. His professional outfit commands respect, but his downturned lips and sorrowful gaze are more funereal than business.
“Delilah, is that you?” Mom appears in the doorway. “Hoffman, what are you doing out here? I thought you were on the way to the office.”
“I wanted to say goodbye to Delilah. Found her out here.” He is somber, and his gaze drops to my mother’s feet as she scrutinizes him.
I exhale loudly and reach for my father. “I’ll walk you to your car, Dad.”
“Are you packed? The driver will be here in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Mom. I’m packed.”
As we make our way through the house to the garage, I can feel Mom’s glare boring into my back. Dad’s cane taps the floor, marking our steady progress. Once the side door closes, he envelops me in his comforting arms. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.”
I step back and sniffle. “What are you sorry for?”
“This whole mess. That your mom brought you home. That we’re forcing you to work at Bayou Development.”
“Dad, I don’t expect Mr. Williams and Mr. Landry are going to go along with your plan. I believe they will go to court before they let me step in.”
“I should’ve never brought them into the blasted company. Your grandfather is probably rolling over in his grave right now.” His right hand wobbles on the cane, distracting me. Brown age spots dot the back of his hand. “But whether they like it or not, they don’t have the money to buy me out.”
“You’ve been talking to them about it?”
“We’ve tossed out some numbers. I don’t want you to be forced into the company, but it’s too much money to walk away from.”
“Dad, I’m not a money gal, but I know they can figure out a way. There are ways. You meet with bankers. Men in suits. They pull out calculators. If they want to buy you out, they figure it out.”
“And you’d walk away from it? Live off an art director salary until we passed away and you received your inheritance? Whatever we don’t spend?” Ah, yes, that’s the heart of it. I can step in as a partner and command a significant salary. Profit dividends. A level of income I wouldn’t have as an employee.
I kick my foot against the tire. “So, you’re gonna go into the meeting today and tell them to lawyer up?”
The corners of his lips lift slightly, but he doesn’t say anything.
I reach out and rest a hand on top of his shaky one. “It’s a mistake, you know?”
“How is it a mistake?”
“Forcing me into Bayou. It would be stronger without me as a partner. And it’s not what I want.”
He scratches his jaw. “If it’s not what you want, why are you here? Why are you letting us dictate what you do? Are you that dependent on access to my credit card?”
“No. Jeez, Dad. I’m here because of you.”
His brow wrinkles, and it’s clear he’s not sure he believes me. He considers me for a minute then says, “Honey, I told you I’m okay.”
I reach out and squeeze his hand. “I want to be here for you.”
“And I love you for it. Here’s the thing, baby girl. I could have an aneurysm tomorrow or get hit by lightning on the golf course. We’ve all got the same ticket out of here, we just don’t know our departure time. What we’ve got to do is live the life we have as best we can. I do wish your mom could be happy with the two of us. I wish she didn’t believe her happiness is so completely connected to where you end up living.”
“She’s not wrong.”
“No, sweetheart, she is. She really is.”
I grin and shake my head. “No, she’s not. You guys were the best parents a girl could ask for. Supported every random dream I had. Hauled my ungrateful ass to all kinds of practices and lessons. Mom spent eighteen years making me her highest priority. It’s not too much to ask for me to live nearby and help out as you guys get older.” Now, that whole forcing me into the boring as all get-out family business, I have an issue with, but no need to throw darts.
He caresses my chin and angles my head upward. “Sweetheart, that’s not how it’s supposed to work. Those eighteen years were a gift. A gift to us. Some of the best years of our lives.” His grin draws my attention to the hollow, dark circles below his eyes. He’s either not sleeping or he’s not well.
“You say you’re doing good, but look at you. You aren’t working full-time now. I never thought I’d see the day. That has to mean something, Daddy.”
“Yeah, it means I saw the light. An
d I’m getting old. Have you ever heard the saying that you can’t take your money with you when you go?” That’s Dad. Always understated and practical. “Well, your mom and I have plenty. What we may not have plenty of is healthy days. So, if I’m ever gonna improve my golf game so I can finally beat Tom, I’ve got to get to it. And I’d like to think your mom and I can finally spend time traveling, something she’s always wanted to do, but I’ve been too busy. That is if I can convince her. What did you say to her on the phone that got her so lit up? Did you tell her you were in love with Mason?”
His question surprises me, and I lean back against his car. I know the exact conversation he’s talking about. I must have run my mouth too much, going on about Mason and Kara, and while I didn’t say the L word, she knows me well. Mason is probably the first guy I’ve ever met that I didn’t follow up with a “but” statement. But he’s a Capricorn. But his socks are weird. But he’s way too proud of his alma mater.
The side door opens, and Mom glances back and forth between us, her hand on her hip. “What are you two doing? Delilah, we’ve got to go.”
“I’ll be right in.” She stands in the doorway, holding the door, her defiant stance telling me she’s not about to go inside and give us privacy.
I step to my dad and reach up on my tippy-toes and give him a huge hug, the kind where we toggle back and forth as we hold each other tight. Then I whisper in his ear, “I didn’t say it, but she knew. Before I did.”
Dad kisses my forehead and squeezes me in his arms. “I love you, baby girl.” Then he straightens and stares her down while he speaks to me. “I love you, and I want you to go live your life. Be happy and strong and fall in love.” He pinches my cheek and winks.
“What nonsense are you saying to her, Hoffman? The driver is here. We need to go.”
“I’m telling her I’m good and you and I are going to be good. We have a lot of traveling and living to do. She needs to go back to her man.”
“Hoffman. Don’t be ridiculous. She doesn’t have a man. Come on, Delilah, let’s go. Your bag is already in the car.”
Mom sends a death glare Dad’s way, the kind that would normally have him cowering, but instead, he stands taller and blows her a kiss. “You ladies have fun in Paris.”
I gaze out the window at the clouds on the way to the airport. Mom and Aunt Josie sit in stony silence, each flicking away at their phones. Wispy clouds speckle the light gray-blue December sky. The black limousine slows to a crawl as we approach the departure terminals. One cloud forms into a horse. I’ve been staring at clouds a lot these past couple of weeks, and never have I seen such a complex shape. I tap Mom’s knee and point out the window. “Look, it’s a horse.”
She squints. “I don’t see it.”
Josie leans across the seat. “I see it. You should look that up. I’m pretty sure it’s a sign for something.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “You and your signs, Josie. You know what, are you sure you want to come with us? I’m not sure how you can find the willpower to leave those grandbabies behind.” There’s an unmistakable air of condescension in her tone.
“Keep pushing, Melinda.”
Mom’s face flushes crimson, and she balls her pale boney hand into a fist. For a minute, she looks like she’s going to punch my aunt. The tension breaks when the driver opens the back door of the car to let us out.
The three of us step into the American terminal. I leave the two angry women behind and stand before the departures and arrivals board. Our flight to New York is on time. From New York, we’ll take an overnight flight to Paris. I’m fed up with this entire situation. The muscles in my shoulders burn from the tension the entire car ride over here. Josie and Mom stand fighting in the middle of the terminal. I can barely make out the words that have deteriorated into childish squabble.
“Everything always has to be about you.”
“Oh. My. God. Everything always has to be about you! Listen to yourself.”
“No, you listen. None of this concerns you. You always butt in.”
Oh, Mylanta, I can’t deal. A whole week listening to this? I can’t do it. One of the reasons I’m not an enormous fan of Paris is because of all the stores my mother plans to haul me into. Shopping plus fighting. Yep, it’s gonna be fantastic.
The horse cloud flits across my mind, and I stride with purpose to the customer service desk. “Yes, can you tell me if I can change my ticket to London, England?”
The agent’s fingers flick away with lightning speed over the keyboard, the click clack of the the keys audible over the hum of airport activity.
“Yes, ma’am. You can. You can remain on this flight to New York, and we can change your ticket to Paris. You are flying in first on the flight to Paris. We also have a first-class seat available to Heathrow. The flight leaves about thirty minutes earlier than the flight to Paris, but you should be able to make it without any difficulty.” More clicking sounds. “The change fee will be $3,500.” She glances up at me from her keyboard with a stoic expression. This woman couldn’t care less if I pay the exorbitant fee, but at this moment, getting away from my mother and the constant bickering and doing something for myself feels monumentally important.
“I’ll change my ticket.”
“May I have your passport, please?”
My mother comes up next to me as I give the attendant my passport and credit card. “Is there a problem?”
“No. I’ve decided I don’t want to go to Paris. I’m changing my flight to London.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I can’t handle another minute of the two of you bickering like old ninnies. I grew up wanting a sister because the two of you were best friends. You two figure your shit out. Maybe I’ll meet you mid-week. Maybe I won’t. But I need space.”
I haven’t been sleeping. When I do, I dream of Mason. His forest green irises haunt me.
Josie stands to the side of my mother, beside the shiny metal line stanchion, lips upturned as she looks off to the side.
Mom points at Josie, the finger so close to her face she has to jerk her head back to avoid getting nailed. “Did you do this?”
With a smug smile, she shakes her head.
“Mom, I’m doing this. Look, I love you, but this week is supposed to be a gift to me, so I’m taking the gift and going where I want to go. I want the two of you to figure out your shit. And then, Mom, you need to reach out to Dad. You’ve been treating him like he’s the enemy, and that needs to stop.”
Her skin color pales, making the pink from her blush strokes stand out more. I expect her to fight me, but all she comes back with is, “Where will you stay?”
I hold up my phone and wiggle it back and forth and bounce a bit on my feet as excitement of my impending solo departure fills me.
“I’ll figure it out. We live in the digital age. I’ll have a car and hotel confirmed before our flight departs.”
“Do you need money?”
Dad’s words come to mind as I reply, “No, Mom. I don’t need money.”
Chapter 23
Mason
When I land at Heathrow, it’s 6:03 a.m. GMT. After unloading from the plane like a herd from an overpacked cattle car, I wander through a maze of hallways to arrive at customs. As I weave through the line, my mind spins. Sleep deprivation plays a part, but how quickly I pulled strings to make this trip happen shocks me to some degree. It all started with the phone call last Tuesday.
“Dr. Herriot?”
“Yes.” It’s unusual to receive personal phone calls during the workday. I wouldn’t have answered, but I saw the 504 area code and thought it might be Delilah.
“Hello, this is Delilah’s father, Hoffman.”
I froze and swear my heart stopped. “Is Delilah okay?”
“Yes, yes, son, she’s fine. Do you have a second to chat?”
My 3:30 appointment hadn’t checked in yet, and I’d just finished up with my 3:00, so if I ignored the reports I needed to complete... “Yes, sir.�
�� My curiosity was enormous. Unless an animal arrived smashed by a car or needing an emergency c-section, I would’ve talked to him.
“Delilah’s talked about you. Now, my daughter, she’s a picky one. If she likes you, you must be something else. Her mother parades eligible bachelors through this house like we’re casting for a reality TV show, and Delilah spots an issue within five minutes flat with each contestant. But not you. Something about you is different. I’m gonna cut to the chase. How do you feel about my daughter?”
I find a chair and fall into it. “Sir? Feel about—”
“Yes, that’s what I said. Back in my day, the father would ask what your intentions are. I won’t do that. But I want to know if you love her.”
“Sir, Delilah and I haven’t known each other that long. We dated briefly before she had to go home, and—”
“I know you haven’t known each other long, but I knew the moment I saw her mother that she was the one. Saw her strolling across the street. She was wearing a mini-skirt and had long straight blonde hair that almost touched the curve of her mighty fine ass. One week with her. That’s all it took for me. Now, not everyone has a love at first sight kind of experience, but, my daughter, she’s a special girl. And I think she loves you. I need to know how strong your feelings are for her.”
“Did she tell you that she loves me?”
“Yes, she did.”
I close my eyes and let those words sink in. A warmth spreads throughout my chest, and the dull ache I’ve been carrying with me for weeks lifts.
“Mason?”
“Ah, yes, sir. I do love your daughter. She’s an amazing woman, and she’s bonded with my daughter in a way I could’ve never expected or hoped. But I’ve been searching for solutions. I can’t easily move to Louisiana. I’m a part-owner in a vet clinic here, and right now I have joint custody with my daughter’s mother.”
“Tell you what, son. Her mother would kill me for saying this, but it has killed me watching Delilah at home these last few weeks. She’s been a bird in a cage. A wild bird who’s used to flying free in a far bigger jungle. She’s outgrown her hometown, and she’s lost here. I want my little girl happy. And, I suspect, you make her happy.”