“It’s a perfect job for her,” I say, knowing how tirelessly she’ll work for her constituents if elected.
“Agreed,” he says. “She’ll give ‘em hell.”
Sheila had come back to Coalton after Mrs. Mitchell’s death. It was as much to support us as to see my parents again and to continue working on the rekindling of their friendship. She hadn’t wanted to return to her old life after that and, within six months, she’d moved to New York to give her and Lisa a second chance. It’s where she’s lived for the last year, building up an entirely new business while throwing her hat in the ring to become one of the state’s congresswomen. She has a real shot of winning, and Hunter and I are two of her biggest supporters, even if we can’t vote for her.
Madison finishes reading the book, but has two more in the stack, and she uses the break in between to ask the older children what they thought of what she’d just read.
Before any of the children can say anything, Meredith babbles a string of nonsensical sounds in Madison’s direction, making us all laugh.
Madison throws a humored look our way, smiles at Meredith and jokingly says, “I absolutely agree with everything you just said.”
There’s more laughter, and Meredith reaches out for the other children and doesn’t stop until Hunter sets her down next to Patrick who turns to hug her.
“She sure is something,” Hunter whispers to me about our girl as we stand back and allow her to be her little independent self.
“She’s strong and confident like you,” I say.
“I think she gets that from you,” he shoots back.
“Maybe we can both take credit.”
“Maybe so,” he says, planting a chaste kiss on my lips. “My two girls. I love you both so much.”
“We love you too. Forever and always.” I lean my head on his shoulder, breathe him in and smile.
HUNTER
We’d gone from the community center to Alli’s parents’ house. My in-laws liked for all of us, my brothers, their now wives, and all of our kids to come over Saturday afternoons and eat them out of house and home, then go for a walk with our all-terrain strollers—weather permitting—where Mr. Briggs might get a last minute inspiration for the sermon we’d all attend at his church Sunday morning.
This summer, Logan’s been a regular fixture on these walks as well. His mother married a good-humored truck driver who could live just about anywhere and decided to move his wife and his new stepson to Coalton to be closer to us. The couple has become friends with Alli’s parents, and I’ve been able to be like a big brother to Logan.
Dad doesn’t like to be around too many people these days, and it’s been tough to get him out of his house to visit any of his kids or to join up for one of the many groups or activities at the community center. Even with therapy and me forgiving him, hopeful it would bring him peace, he never got over the shame he felt at how he’d treated me after Mom died.
He loves his grandchildren though, loves it when we all stop by his house and give his caretaker, the retired fireman he likes so much, a break. The kids are too young to be bothered by the sometimes violent tremors his Parkinson’s causes, and they happily sit on his lap like they’re on a carnival ride. They’ll be raised to understand that illness doesn’t preclude someone from love and attention.
“I think I’ll be seeing your mother soon,” he tells me in a shaky, quiet voice.
Keith and Billy have already told him goodbye, and the kids have all crashed after an event filled day, and I’m sure I’ll be carrying Meredith out to the truck.
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
Dad never stops telling me how much he misses Mom, but this is the first time he’s said something quite like this to me.
“I see her sometimes,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “In my dreams, and now when I’m awake too. Hard to explain, but I always tell her I’m ready to go home to her, and she always tells me it’s not time. She says you kids need me.”
“We do,” I say. “Me, Billy and Keith, and all your grandchildren too.”
He smiles, almost bashfully. “But you boys are all strong on your own. You’ve all got great wives and great kids. That last time I saw your mom, she told me I could start letting go. She said you’d all be fine now.”
“You aren’t thinking of hurting yourself, are you, Dad?” I’m worried he’ll do just that, thinking these visions he has of my mother are giving him permission to end things.
He shakes his head. “No… not going out that way. My time will come on its own. But before it does, I’m damn sorry for how I treated you.”
“I know, Dad. You don’t have to keep apologizing, and you’re sure… sure you aren’t going to hurt yourself?” There was a time I might not have cared what my dad did, but I do now, more than I might like to admit.
“I’m sure, but I’m also sure I can never give you back the childhood you deserved. I was a terrible father, but I love you, son. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“I love you too, Dad,” I say, deciding not to fight him.
I sit with him for a while, struggling to keep my emotion in check. We missed out on so much when my mom died. We all endured years of hurt. But as I enter into my thirties, I can look back and be glad I’ve gained some of that father back, now a grandfather for Meredith, and if he sticks around long enough, her memories of him will be fond ones.
When Alli comes to check on us, I tell her I’ll be just another minute, and then I give my dad a hug and wonder how many more times I’ll get to do that before he’s gone.
“Your dad looked happier than usual,” Alli says once we’re home.
We’d just put Meredith to bed in the house we had built next to Alli’s parents, a house we’ve lived in since I retired from the NFL, having decided not to play that one last season when my injury healed and never once regretting it. Alli and I are alone now in our room, and this is one of my favorite parts of the day, watching my beautiful wife undress, talking to her and then, more often than not, making love to her. Every day, I feel like the luckiest man in the world.
“He’s been having those hallucinations of my mom more often,” I tell her as she slips on a camisole and fresh panties, her usual bedtime uniform. “Well, maybe not hallucinations, but visions of her or whatever. He said she told him he could start letting go.”
“Letting go?” Alli’s expression is suddenly alarmed.
“What he means is he’s ready when his time comes, that he’s happy because he believes he’ll see my mom again.”
She relaxes, nods thoughtfully and joins me where I sit at the edge of our bed. “Is that what you believe?”
Alli is the one who has more faith than I do, the kind of faith that isn’t bound by strict laws and rules, but one in which she truly expects that, when our time is up in this world, that we’ll get to see our loved ones again.
But I still struggle.
I try to make the best of this world, try to make people here the happiest I can. I do it by remaining in touch with the men and women who were abused by Clyde Mitchell, even developing close friendships with a couple of the men. There were more than just the six of us—just as Micah alluded to—half a dozen more coming out after everything that Micah confessed to Alli and I hit the news. Most of them have found some healing, some of them having been at the brink when they finally realized they didn’t have to be alone. I think our survival, and in fact the way many of us have thrived, proves that we are stronger than a man like Clyde Mitchell or people like him who prey on the vulnerable.
And then there’s Logan and the kids we’re still helping at Children’s Hospital, and the community center Alli supported me in getting off the ground and built in record time. There is Sheila and her life of politics, and Josh who visits us at least once a month, though these never seem to intersect with the times Mallory comes, even with Alli and my best efforts. Uncle Harrison has moved back too, to be closer to my aunt’s final resting place, but also for
us, to be part of our family again.
And of course there is Meredith and my beautiful Alli. They have made me the man I always wanted to be, a loving husband and a proud father. I can still close my eyes and remember the first day I saw Alli, how I think I loved her from that very moment and knew how much she’d change my life. I was ready to shed the man I’d become in favor of the man I once dreamed of being, the man who would deserve a woman as beautiful and awe-inspiring as my wife, a man my mother would be proud of.
I can’t fathom anything less than an eternity with her, and so I suppose I can understand why even the slightest possibility my father will get to see my mother again makes him ready to leave us.
“I don’t think he’s crazy or lying,” I say, “so maybe what he’s seeing is real. Maybe my mom’s been closer than I thought… all along.”
“I think that’s probably true,” Alli says, snuggling closer to me. “I feel like the people we love don’t ever truly leave us.”
“Then we’ll always be together,” I say to Alli, bending forward and kissing her.
“Always and forever,” she says.
We turn off the lights and crawl into bed. I hold her body against mine, and I know that she’s right.
Acknowledgments
Thank you readers! If you enjoyed The Ground Beneath, I would so appreciate a brief review and/or rating on Amazon or Goodreads.
Thanks to my family and friends who continue to support my writing dreams, especially to my late mother who has had such an impact on my life!
Other Books by Stephanie Vercier
STANDALONE ROMANCE
The Light Before Us - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075ZW33T9
The Years Between Us - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071ZV1DW4
THE BASIN LAKE SERIES
This series may be read in series form or as standalone novels.
Between the Boys - Book 1 - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M6W5EHR
Broken by Love - Book 2 - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N9D9OLN
Between the Girls - Book 3 - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N18N3L8
Unbroken by Love - Book 4 - Available Now
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071ZBH26R
About the Author
Hey, I’m Stephanie Vercier! I live in beautiful Washington State with a husband and a house full of cats! I’ve always loved writing and creating stories in my head, and I’m so grateful for the opportunity to actually put them to paper and work on improving my craft with each story I write.
I’m also an avid reader, wartime romances and mysteries being two of my favorite genres.
Website: http://www.stephanievercier.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stephanievercier/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stephanievercier/
The Ground Beneath Page 35