by Dawn McClure
She moved down the hallway slowly, hoping not to disturb whatever was going on in the dining room before she got a good look. Her mother, all three of her brothers, Tim’s wife Christine, Mike and Helen, and John were seated around the mahogany dining room table playing cards. A few bowls of tortilla chips and smaller bowls of her mother’s famous seven-layer dip were scattered around the table, as were a few bowls of popcorn.
Her attention was drawn to John, who was sitting between his brother Mike and her brother, George, who’d been in his class from kindergarten until their senior year in high school. He grabbed a handful of popcorn and tossed a few pieces into his mouth, laughing at something Mike had said. He looked incredibly relaxed, and his smile took off the added years she’d seen on him earlier. Why was it, when a man aged, he only became more rugged and handsome, while women just looked worn and haggard?
He wasn’t polished at all. He wouldn’t fit into the circles she ran with back in Cali. Oh, her friends would die to get him into bed, but not one of them would marry him. He lived in the sticks, for one, and for two, his name wouldn’t get them into the places they’d sell their soul to get into.
But he was so damned hot. Liam was built from CrossFit. John was built from hard work on the farm. There was a difference. Maybe most women wouldn’t see the difference, but she did.
No one had noticed she’d walked in yet.
“She would get so mad,” her mother laughed, barely getting the words out she was laughing so hard. “He’d chopped her Barbie’s hair off and she’d come charging into the kitchen swinging that Barbie around like a mace and screaming that she’d get even with him.” Her mom dissolved into breath-taking laughter. Mel had never seen her mother laugh so hard. Her mom barely had the breath to squeak out, “It was the funniest thing I ever saw.”
Mel couldn’t remember doing that, but her mom was probably referring to Tim. He’d tortured Mel’s Barbies when she was younger, whacking their hair off with scissors and hiding them from her.
“Do you remember the spider incident?” her mom asked.
Everyone at the table groaned. Mel remembered and almost groaned herself, a smile tugging her lips. When Mel was around ten years old, George had thought it would be funny to put a spider in her bed at night. She’d felt it crawl across her arm and she’d screamed as only a girl who hadn’t gone through puberty could. That scream had been so shrill and high she was still surprised it hadn’t broken a few vases in the house.
It had taken several washes of her blankets and countless promises that there was no spider in her bed before she’d sleep in it again. George had been grounded for an entire week.
“Yeah, Garrett put that daddy long-leg in her boot. We had to throw them out because she refused to ever wear them again,” Tim said, laughing.
For a minute she only stared at Mike, until it dawned on her. Heather. They were talking about Garrett and Heather, her niece and nephew, not her and one of her brothers. Another weird sensation washed over her, leaving her slightly numb.
She didn’t feel as though she belonged anymore.
And why would she? She’d sent the people gathered around that table cards and money for birthdays and holidays, but she hadn’t been there. She didn’t really know Heather or Garrett, so she didn’t know the stories being told of them.
She didn’t know her own family.
“Mel?”
Mel glanced at John, who’d pushed out his chair and stood when he’d said her name. She immediately smiled and headed into the room, trying to cover up any out-of-place feelings she currently hosted. “I thought you were referring to George putting that spider in my bed,” she said to her mom. Not as many laughs, and George made a face as though he couldn’t remember doing it. Slightly awkward. She swallowed, and like in the cartoons she’d watched as a child, she swore everyone in the room heard it.
“How was your dinner with Maryann?” her mom asked.
The tone had gone from jovial and loud to solemn and silent. “Fine,” she said quietly, wishing she hadn’t blown their party. “I’m just going to head up to bed. I’m still a little tired from the flight.” Same excuse she’d used on Maryann, only this time she didn’t have to wait for the check, and thank God, because for some reason she really wanted out of the room. She felt as though she were intruding.
A cacophony of voices rang out in opposition, begging her to stay, but she’d already smiled nicely and was heading out of the room. She literally couldn’t stay in the dining room a second longer with all eyes on her, because she had the strange sensation that she was going to cry.
Which was completely maddening. There was no reason to cry. No reason to get upset at all. She never cried. Having grown up with three brothers, she’d learned early on that unless she was trying to get her mother’s attention with tears, they only made her look weak. Made her stand out. She’d tried to be like her brothers most of the time, not the odd one out.
“Hey,” John said when her foot hit the first step on the stairs up to her room. “Don’t leave on my behalf. You visit with your family. I can always drop by and see them. I’m just down the road.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she still couldn’t pinpoint why, so she rudely kept her back to him. “No, stay. I’m, uh, I’m not leaving because of you. I’m really tired. That’s the truth.” And that was the truth. She took another few steps before his voice stopped her again.
“I didn’t mean to tease you this morning. I mean, I did, I just wish I hadn’t. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
She was standing close to the step where she and John had stood on the evening of his senior prom, and her mother had taken a picture of them. The picture still sat on her old nightstand, right where Mel had set it so many years ago, so the visual was fresh in her mind, having just seen the picture this morning. She couldn’t figure why her mom still had it out. Mel had worn a long, burgundy gown, the same color she currently had on her nails, with silver beads on the bodice. He’d had a matching burgundy necktie and kerchief.
If she’d known how life would turn out, would she have done anything different? If, on that night of his prom, she had known in ten years that she’d be looking at pictures of Maryann’s kids and her happily married life with jealousy, would she have changed her course?
She’d never know. “It’s fine. Really, I’m just tired.” She took a few more steps up the stairs, hoping he’d take pity on her and simply let her retire to her old room.
“You think I don’t know you well enough to tell when you’re lying?”
She stopped, turned, and looked down at him. He seemed younger, looking up at her from the bottom of the staircase, his large hand resting lightly on the banister. Some of the ruggedness she’d seen earlier that day had disappeared. His features were soft, as though he were contemplating her and what made her tick. He looked like he did when they were in high school. She wasn’t about to admit to him that seeing him and Mike with her family had made her feel left out somehow. As though everyone had carried on when she left, and John had never needed her to be a part of her family.
That he was more a part of her family than she was now. She was certain he not only gave Garett and Heather cards and presents for their birthdays, but attended their parties a well. They called him uncle and he wasn’t even technically their uncle.
No, she wasn’t about to say any of that. Because she was just being hormonal or something. Lots of people didn’t live around their parents, for God’s sake. What the hell was wrong with her? She could feel tears building again. Why had he followed her out of the room? To apologize for teasing her that morning? “Good night, John.”
She headed up the staircase and went straight to her room. She was just about to turn on the light when she saw John start down the hallway after her. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She hadn’t heard him on the staircase. She looked at him in question.
“Sarah’s in there,” he said, walking up to her. “Let me get her. I’ll set her
up on the couch in the basement. Garrett and Heather are playing video games down there. She’ll be fine with them.”
She’d have told him to leave Sarah be, but she only wanted to go inside her old room and shut the door to the world behind her. Instead of closing a chapter, she was reading one she’d never read before: what life was like for everyone now that she was gone. And it was a good chapter—without her in it. Everyone was happy. As they should be. As she was.
Wasn’t she?
John slipped past her and into her bedroom.
Of course she was happy. She had a fantastic job, a great group of friends, and Liam.
What woman, in her expensive shoes, wouldn’t be happy?
She heard whispering, a shifting of sheets and blankets, and saw Sarah’s trusting little arms reach up for her uncle. John adjusted her against his chest, then he headed out of her room, his arms wrapped around Sarah, who had her head laying on his shoulder, already fast asleep again. He said nothing to Mel when he passed her.
Sarah looked like an angel in sleep. Chubby cheeks, one resting against John’s shoulder, her pink lips pushed out, eyes closed in complete trust as she lay limp in his arms.
Liam’s question came to mind from nowhere. Where do you see yourself in five years?
She stared after John, his broad back, capable shoulders, and that angelic, chubby face of a child that made Mel ache to hold one of her own. Mel didn’t remember her father, and had never had a father figure in her life. Not a grandfather or a loving uncle. Only three brothers who protected her as much as they roughed her up.
Sarah was one lucky little girl.
Maybe Mel just needed some sleep. Tomorrow her spirits would be lifted. Tonight she had a blog to write anyway.
She closed the door to her bedroom and set her purse down on the chair next to the dresser. Drawing her phone out, she saw that she’d missed a call from Cindy. She called her back immediately, knowing Cindy was two hours behind her. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Well, since you’ve been there for nearly two days now I figured you must have run into John about a dozen or so times. How’s it going? Any more additions to my quality checklist?”
She wasn’t about to tell Cindy that he’d just been in her bedroom. No doubt Cindy would quip, “red flag” and demand to know the details. She sat down on the edge of her bed. “Kids’ coach.”
Cindy said nothing for several seconds. Then she said quietly, “Come again?”
“I realized that John loves kids. He wouldn’t just attend their games and sit on the bleachers, he’d probably be coaching whatever sport they played. I doubt Liam would even have the time to go to a game, let alone coach my kid’s football team.”
“Well, for one, you’re talking like you already have kids, which you don’t. And two, Liam is a hard worker. You can’t brush aside that quality. Some men don’t have that.”
Mel made a face. “John has that quality too. He runs a small ranch with only a little help from his brother and works as part-owner at his family’s hardware store in town. It’s just that…I didn’t have a father. I just want the best father for my children because I know what it’s like to grow up without one. Maybe Liam wouldn’t have time for our children.” And she’d seen that quality in John tonight, when he’d held Sarah. He’d be a great father.
Would Liam?
“It’s getting harder and harder to know just who you’re in love with. You certainly can’t tell by the way you talk.”
Mel fiddled with the edge of the quilt, those damned tears trying to make another appearance. Cindy was right. Mel hadn’t even called Liam all day. Not since their first chat that morning. “Not to rush off the phone or anything, but I’m going to call Liam.” Guilt for not being home with her family and guilt for not being a good girlfriend warred for top rank. She sniffed and willed the tears to go away.
“Melanie, don’t get down. I know I give you a lot of shit, but you’re just going through a lot right now. You found out your boyfriend of less than a year is going to propose and it threw you into a tailspin. You’re home for the first time in years. Honey, don’t worry. Everything will work itself out, and I’ll add ‘great father’ to the growing list.”
Mel hoped her life would find balance. Even when she’d arrived in California and hadn’t known a soul, she hadn’t felt this disjointed. Two weeks ago she felt as though she belonged in California with her friends and her boyfriend, Liam. She hung out with her friends occasionally, and she and Liam met up several times a week for dinner or a movie. She adored the condo she lived in, and had decorated every inch of it with things she loved.
But that condo had never felt like what that dining room downstairs had looked like. No laughter. No card games. No family or friends or…old boyfriends. No, in her condo everything had a place, and everything was in its place. Same with her life. Everyone in her life had a place.
Now nothing and no one was in its place and she didn’t know how to fix it.
_______
The next morning John shoved his arms into his jacket hard enough to create a temporary flicker of warmth from the friction. His jacket was a little chilly, since he’d hung it in the mudroom when he’d returned from Sophie’s place last night, and his mudroom only had a little base heater that wasn’t worth much. He grabbed his coffee thermos before he headed into the garage, needing the warmth and the jump-start the hot liquid would give him.
For the first time in a long time—possibly ever—he didn’t want to go to Sophie’s. Not because of the cold or the hard work ahead, he just didn’t want to run into her daughter.
Every time he tried to reach out and make peace, Mel slapped his olive branch away. Which was fine, he guessed, only he could tell she’d been struggling last night. Last night he hadn’t seen the snotty little brat he’d thought she’d become. He’d seen the vulnerability and pain. The look on her face when she’d been staring at their card game and thought no one was watching her had told him exactly what he’d wondered about ever since she left Pine Grove: did she miss home?
Yes. She absolutely missed home. The longing on her face as she stood there listening to their stories had told him that. She’d looked at her family with such a longing that he’d been unable to find his voice at first. Did she miss him? He didn’t think so. Not from the way she’d acted when he’d gone up the stairs after her. Thankfully, he’d recalled that Sarah was sleeping in Mel’s room, so he’d grabbed on to that to explain why he’d run after her.
Truth was, he’d seen that she was close to tears, and after a quick glance at her mother, who had undoubtedly given him non-verbal marching orders to go after Mel, he’d taken off after her. Nothing could have held him back from seeking Mel out to make sure she was okay.
He’d sure like to know what he’d done that had made her dislike him so much, but he’d never ask. He figured they’d grown apart, as a lot of people who went to high school did, but he sure as hell hadn’t done anything to hurt her.
His breath came out in temporary clouds of white when he stepped outside, so he made quick work of feeding his livestock. A little over an hour later he was sliding into the cab of his truck. He immediately turned the key in the ignition and switched on the heat. He sat there for a minute or two before he could feel any warmth from the forced air coming out of the vents.
He braced himself for an extended cold morning at the Edward’s Ranch. He doubted Mel was going to help round up cattle, but Sophie was going to invite him in for chili. She’d said as much yesterday during the card game. Chili and corn bread. Her corn bread was damn good too.
He took off his gloves and tossed them onto the passenger seat, feeling a little more heat seep out of the vents. Sitting back, letting his truck warm, he rubbed his hands together. It was still dark outside, but the eastern sky was just starting to turn a lighter shade of blue, announcing the sun would make an appearance in an hour or so. In six hours or less he could be back home catching up on some of the chores.
&
nbsp; He was going to politely decline the lunch invitation and head back home. He really did have a lot to do before that storm got here on Monday evening. Now the weathermen were talking about freezing rain switching over to snow, which would put a fine layer of ice on the roads. He couldn’t imagine the temperature getting up that high, but that’s what they were saying. If that weather prediction held true, he needed to be prepared for power outages, at both his store and his house.
And he didn’t want to forget about Darlene. He’d promised to clear her driveway, and he had to remember to bring over salt if they had an ice storm before the precipitation turned to snow. He didn’t want her slipping and falling. If the snow covered a thin layer of ice, she might not anticipate the hidden, slippery condition of her driveway.
He put the truck in gear and let out a long breath. They only had to move the Edward’s livestock a short distance, a little closer to the barn for the duration of the storm. This really shouldn’t take long.
He was coming down their driveway ten minutes later. He’d arrived a little early, and as he’d done several times when picking Mel up for school during their high school years, he looked for a light on in her bedroom window, but there was only darkness. He bet princess Mel was still lounging in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin.
Not wanting to bother with her in case she was up and moving around, he cut his engine and made his way into the barn. The sound of someone shucking horse stalls in the back of the barn brought a smile to his face. So he wasn’t the only one who liked to get things done this early in the morning. It was probably George. Tim was likely still cuddled up with his wife on this cold winter’s morning, and Brian was dating Macy, so he guessed he was with her. Looked like it was down to the two bachelors.
When John peeked in the stall, ready to call out a good morning to George, his eyes bugged out of his head. Mel, dressed in that oversized, ruined jacket he’d loaned her, and boots that looked a little too big, was in the stall laying down a fresh layer of hay. She must have started cleaning this stall early to be almost done.