“I don’t have any regrets,” Kelsey whispered, tilting her head to the side and letting out a small sigh, followed by the soft sound of her slumbered breathing.
Her face contorting, Harley smiled through a sheen of tears as she gazed upon Kelsey’s sleeping form in that hospital bed.
“Nor should you, my friend. You’re practically perfect.”
Harley awoke a short time later, her body curled up next to Kelsey on the bed, and glanced up to see the most handsome EMT she had ever seen watching her with a coy smile. Making sure she didn’t rouse Kelsey, she pressed herself up to a seated position, self-consciously pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Not working?” she asked quietly.
“I snuck away for a few minutes.” He reached for her hand, and she stood and stepped toward him. “You know, one of these days, I might ask you to run away with me.”
“Promise?”
Tilting her chin upward with his fingers, he slowly and deliberately bent toward her, heightening the anticipation until his lips barely grazed her own, his mouth gently tugging against hers in invitation. She brought her hand up, wrapping her fingers around the back of his neck, the tender kiss threatening to undo her composure. Unable to resist, she yielded to the firm pressure of his hand at the small of her back, melting into him even as a tear rolled down her cheek. While he moved his lips delicately against hers, she tried to ignore the pounding of her heart.
This room was everything Duke had talked to her about the day before. Love and compassion—they were bursting to the seams and maybe even overflowing.
“Ryan, you ‘bout ready?” came a voice from the hallway.
With a sigh, he pulled away, gazing into her eyes. “Yeah, just give me a sec, Miguel.” Brushing against her cheek with the back of his hand, he gave her an endearing smile. “Everything’s okay, baby.”
“No,” she protested, shaking her head slowly. “Everything’s not okay. Some things are more than okay. Far and beyond more than okay.”
With a slight nod, he continued to study her. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And I have the entire day off. I can’t think of anything better to do with it than spend it with the woman who holds my heart.”
The way Ryan looked at her and spoke with such sincerity had a way of making her want to wilt like those old-fashioned women swooned in the classic movies, but she forced herself to remain upright and not appear utterly ridiculous.
“You know, earlier Kelsey was talking about not having any regrets,” she said.
“She doesn’t have any?”
“No,” she answered simply, placing her hand against his chest.
“And what about you?”
Unable to vocalize her thoughts, she nodded her head.
“So what are we doing tomorrow, Harley? What does our Christmas Eve look like?”
Running her finger across the patches on the sleeve of his uniform, she managed to offer a sad smile.
“I need to go home.”
C hapter Twenty-Seven
Harley could have fooled herself into thinking going home wouldn’t be particularly strange. Eighteen years she spent in the trailer halfway between Salt Lick and Hope, as the crow flies. That’s what her dad used to say, anyway. She never argued, because it certainly felt like she was always halfway between something.
The closer they drew to that familiar place, though, the more her palms seemed to sweat and her stomach grew queasy. Had she left on better terms a homecoming might have felt comfortable or even sweet, but she wasn’t proud of the way she abruptly departed from her family. Leaving a note was cowardly, and she was no coward.
Glancing over at Ryan, she gave him a half-hearted smile that reached no farther than the corners of her lips, and certainly didn’t penetrate the icy chill surrounding her. As though he read her mind, he reached over and placed his hand atop hers on her thigh.
He certainly had taken pains to make sure he looked his best to meet her parents. Despite the fact that she showed up at his house fairly casual wearing dark-wash jeans and a loose sweater that hung off her shoulder, he met her at the door wearing a slim-fit long-sleeved purple dress shirt that was practically molded to his body. A henna-colored pattern scrolled across one shoulder and down the side of the chest, stopping where he had the shirt tucked into his distressed jeans.
Sitting in the car with him, studying him again, he nearly took her breath away. He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows nearly as soon as they loaded into her BMW, and as her eyes traced the line of his arm up towards his face, she couldn’t help but smile.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he requested, keeping his eyes on the road.
“I’m sorry, but you make it nearly impossible. I can see every one of your muscles through your shirt.”
“That seems like an exaggeration.”
“Really?” she wondered with a smirk. Leaning towards him, she draped her fingers across his bicep. “Look at that. And you expect me to keep my eyes over here?”
“I’m warning you—torment me, and I will torment you later.”
“I’m not scared,” she insisted with a laugh, forcing her eyes to drift to the passenger window. It wouldn’t be far now, and the thought sent a new wave of dread over her.
Resorting to silence, she watched as trees whizzed by along the side of the road. She had tried to view her childhood home from a satellite Internet map once, when she was feeling particularly nostalgic, but it had been impossible. The tiny little line of white led off the road, but it disappeared into a mess of green that was impenetrable. The trailer had always been nestled right into the woods, with trees precariously close to their dwelling, as though her father simply didn’t want to bother with mowing a lawn. And he never had, as long as she had lived there.
When Ryan slowed the car and peered to the side of the road, noticing the DAVIDSON on the mailbox, he flipped on the blinker and gave her an encouraging grin. It gave her no solace. She was worried that they might be angry with her, naturally, but even worse, she feared they might not accept Ryan.
How many times had she heard her mother complaining to her father about the types of men who gave him their business? Men with tattoos and long hair, or the mother of all things evil—earrings. He couldn’t turn down business based on peoples’ appearances, he said. The truth was, her father had been different during the summers when her mother was overseas on her missions work. He and Harley seemed like allies during those times, understanding and accepting of one another.
She stopped thinking about tattoos as the trailer appeared in their view, resting in front of them like a ghost from the past, never updated and still boasting the damaged panel in the front from a hail storm.
Ryan didn’t ask her if they were in the right place, because certainly he instinctively knew. If he couldn’t tell from the haunted look on her face, he would have known from the rigid form of her body, or the fact that she was having trouble blinking.
Placing the BMW in park, Ryan let the engine continue to idle, gazing over at her.
“Think they’re home?” he asked.
His words elicited nothing more than a shrug as she pulled on the door handle and stepped out onto the brown grass poking through the gravel, splattered here and there with the remnants of a snow that hadn’t yet melted in the shadows. He allowed the engine to still and joined her in front of the car, staring up at the rickety-looking wooden stairs.
“I’m here,” he whispered. “I don’t care what happens—if you’re worried and want to go back to Louisville, or if you’re angry, or if you’re upset. Whatever happens, I’m here.”
“I know,” she stated simply, placing her hand in his. “You’re here to love me, because God knew I needed you.”
She didn’t allow him to respond as she marched carefully up the steps, testing each one to make sure it wouldn’t crumble beneath her weight. It never occurred to her that something mig
ht have happened to her parents in the two years since she’d been gone, but the shoddy condition of her childhood home certainly made that seem like a possibility. Steeling herself, she rapped quickly on the door, feeling Ryan’s hand make its way to her back.
“Elaine?” she heard her father’s voice from somewhere deep inside, and an instant wave of relief washed over her at hearing his voice. The sound of the trailer creaking as he moved toward the door could be heard with each footstep, and Harley backed away a few inches, feeling the moment’s impending closeness. As the door was drawn open, she was almost certain her heart stopped beating.
“Dad,” she acknowledged, taking in the thin, lanky man with dark hair graying at the temples, plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows just like Ryan.
“Harley?” he managed, voice cracking. “Honey, that you? Ya look all grown up.”
“Apparently that happens as one gets older,” she said, noticing the deeper creases around his eyes. “You alright?”
“I do okay.” Pausing, he motioned to the steps behind her. “Need to get the stairs fixed.”
She nearly smiled as she recognized her father’s familiar habit of deflecting questions away from himself by directing the subject to inanimate objects.
“Yeah,” she agreed solemnly. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Ryan Temple. He rides a motorcycle.”
She had no idea why she felt like she should add that tidbit of information, but Ryan chuckled briefly behind her.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Davidson.”
“Call me Phil.” The two men shook hands, eyeing one another cautiously, and Phil backed away from the door. “Come on in, y’all. Sorry we weren’t expecting you.”
Glancing around at the small living room, Harley took in the space that seemed virtually unchanged. Same old tan woven couch, worn out brown recliner that was nearly threadbare on the arms, and a solid bookcase shelf full of different versions of the Bible. She studied the carpet as she moved across the room, noting how it was loose in spots and wrinkled—identical in color to the Kentucky earth, just as it had always been.
“Elaine! Get out here, you’re not gonna believe this.”
Harley waited, nervously standing in front of her father as she heard her mother’s squeaking footsteps coming down the hall. When the familiar face stepped into view, her countenance erupting into a smile, Harley was immediately put more at ease.
“Oh my goodness! My eyes must be deceiving me!”
“Hi, Mom.” Harley kept her gaze on her mother, noticing the fact that she had gained a little weight and looked like she had aged ten years instead of two. Her lackluster chestnut hair was pulled back loosely at her neck, her appearance made worse by the fact that she was wearing an old-fashioned polyester blouse that Harley’s great-grandma might have worn. It was impossible for her not to think that her mother would look at least ten years younger if she simply made an effort on her appearance.
“We got a phone, honey.” She stepped over to the wall, plucking a handheld from its cradle. “See here? We thought maybe you might want to call us, but then we didn’t know how to tell you.”
“That’s great, really.” Staring at her mother’s animated face, Harley wondered how she should react.
“You should take our number. Eight-five-nine—”
“Maybe you could write it down for me later.”
“Oh,” she muttered, placing the phone back in its place. “Yes, that sounds good.”
“This is Ryan Temple, my boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend?” she asked incredulously, finally looking at Ryan. “Well, I’m surprised. Hello.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Davidson.”
“Just call me Elaine. Are you staying for Christmas? I wasn’t expecting you.”
“No, Ryan’s sister is in the hospital, so we’ll only be here for a little while.”
Harley studied the way her mother wrung her hands together, looking for something to busy herself.
“Well, sit, both of you. Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you,” Ryan answered, sitting gingerly on the couch where he sunk a little farther than he expected, his knees winding up higher than his hips. Harley settled next to him and immediately grabbed his hand, as though she was clinging to him for dear life.
“Do you still live in Louisville? What kind of job do you have?” Elaine settled herself a couple feet from Harley, placing her hands together at her knees.
“Yes, I’m a reporter for Channel Six Action News.”
“Oh, for the television?”
For the television? Every time I visit my parents I feel like I stepped onto an episode of The Waltons.
Ryan glanced at Harley and shifted uncomfortably. “Harley is Louisville’s most popular reporter.”
Harley watched the uninterested expression on her mother’s face, wondering what it would take to impress her. “Really? That’s nice, dear.”
“So, Phil, Harley tells me you work on motorcycles?” Ryan smiled at Harley, and she squeezed his hand as a thank you for moving the conversation along.
“Yup, I’ve got a couple out back, if you want to take a look.”
Ryan gave Harley a questioning glance, and she shook her head.
“Go on.”
He quickly turned to kiss her cheek before he shoved himself up from the couch with difficulty, following Harley’s father quietly out the door. As soon as he left, Harley twisted her mouth slightly to the side and gazed across the room.
“Your boyfriend seems…nice.”
Swinging her head to the left, Harley tried to gauge her mother’s meaning behind her words. “He is nice. He’s wonderful, actually.”
“He’s not a troublemaker? He’s good to you?”
A troublemaker, of course. What else would he be?
“The absolute best. I couldn’t dream of better.”
“Okay.”
If Elaine wanted to say more, she held her tongue, and Harley didn’t dare ask what she was thinking.
“You don’t have a Christmas tree.” That fact dawned on Harley suddenly, and she didn’t filter it before it passed her lips.
“Oh. No, I suppose the only reason I ever bothered with that was for you. It just seems like a nuisance now that you’re gone.”
That admission caused Harley to lift her eyebrows as she stared at her mother. “You did that for me?”
“Well, sure.” Twisting her hands together, she seemed to deflate right before Harley’s eyes. “I never expected you to be gone for so long. We haven’t seen you in years.”
The statement wasn’t exactly accusatory, but it pierced Harley with a guilty sting that she tried to fight. Hadn’t she every right to be angry?
“How is Mayowa?” The question sounded terse and rude to her own ears, but Harley couldn’t stop herself from asking while she reminded herself why she left.
“She’s wonderful, would you like to see?”
No, I don’t want to see. Would you like to be replaced, dear? Perhaps we can surpass our feelings for you by focusing on someone else? Would you like to gaze upon the face of the daughter we chose over you?
Instead of voicing her thoughts, she sat like a statue while her mother rose from the couch and began to search through a stack of envelopes on the bookcase.
“Here she is.” A grainy photograph was placed on Harley’s lap, and against her instincts, she reached out with hesitant fingers and plucked it up, staring at the young woman. She stood amid a group of children, all smiling and waving for the camera. Her grin shone bright white against her dark skin, and her closely cropped hair was accented by a pink flower on one side.
“What is this?” Harley wanted to know, motioning to the building behind the group.
“Mayowa’s always dreamed of being a teacher. She’s teaching the local children to read.”
Anger mixed with sympathy warred hotly in Harley’s chest as she thought about her mother’s words. Mayowa had achieved her dreams? It wasn’
t the Nigerian woman’s fault that her mother had doted on her all those years, but why didn’t Harley’s dreams matter? Why had they never mattered?
“Why, Mom?”
“Why? I suppose she wants them to be able to—”
“Not why does she want them to read. Why have you given so much of yourself to this random person? What hold does she have on you?”
Lowering herself next to Harley, Elaine stared at the photo as she sat silently, not answering for several seconds. Deciding her mother wasn’t going to answer, Harley gave up and tilted the photo sideways, giving it another glance.
“Mayowa is the same age as you. When I went on my first mission trip, she was an orphan and she was very sick. All she needed was basic medicine that was readily available here.” Pausing, she looked directly at her daughter. “Have you ever met someone and felt like your soul was connected with theirs?”
Immediately Harley’s thoughts flew to Kelsey, back in Louisville in her hospital bed.
“Yes,” she answered quietly.
“Well, all I could think was that we had a healthy daughter at home, and this poor girl needed such basic things. And as the both of you grew older, God made it easier and easier to help her. Now she’s helping her entire village. Our church partnered with her local church, and they’ve been able to set up medical services and teaching services.”
Harley continued to stare into the dark eyes that looked back at her in that picture. Human beings just like her who certainly deserved their own chances at happiness, and she couldn’t begrudge them some blessings in their meager lives. However deserving, though, their circumstances didn’t change what her mother had done. What her father had allowed her mother to do.
“So the church talked you into this?” Harley asked. “That’s it, right? Just like when you refused to let me speak with my best friend Beth anymore, because she was an unwed mother? Or when I couldn’t go to Susie’s wedding with Grandma, because they might have a champagne toast?”
Crowned (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 2) Page 28