“You’re not in this alone,” Mara said, compassion lacing the words.
“I know. Thanks for meeting me for early drinks. I know it’s a pain, but the boys will be out of school soon, and I don’t want to leave them with a babysitter just yet.”
“How are they dealing with Adam’s leaving?” Savannah pushed her index finger against the lip of her glass, making a high C sing across the table.
“Frankie is back to needing to know my every move during the day. Garrett drew another attack tornado in art class this week. Neither of them has really put it together that Adam isn’t coming back.” When they did... She would figure out how to rebalance their lives. Again.
God, she wanted to hate Adam for making her balance and rebalance their lives. Instead, she felt nothing.
“I want to be angry at him. Why do I just feel numb?” Anger would be so much better than the helpless feeling she’d had for the past few days. Almost any emotion would be better than that.
“Because you love him.” Mara reached out to squeeze Jenny’s hand. Savannah rested her palm over theirs.
“I don’t want to love him.” Why couldn’t she stop? He’d hurt her before, and she’d been able to stop herself then. Or at least to keep her heart from completely breaking open. Why couldn’t she do that now?
Mara and Savannah offered small smiles, but no words of comfort.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ADAM PACED THE small room at the B and B, unable to sit still. It was Friday, nearly a week since he’d moved out of Jenny’s house. He’d tried watching TV, but during the day the only options for television seemed to be soap operas filled with lying, cheating and lovemaking, or scripted talk shows about real people who lied, cheated and loved making their significant others feel like dirt.
He’d had enough of lying, had no desire to cheat and couldn’t stop replaying that last night with Jenny in his mind. He didn’t need the manufactured drama of either the soaps or talk shows. He had his own soap opera going right now.
What he needed was a drink, but drinking wasn’t allowed in his condition. Of course, neither was living alone, and he’d managed that just fine for the past week. Adam pocketed the key to his room and signaled Sheba to follow him. The dog kept pace with him through the streets of town until they reached the Slippery Slope. Adam ducked inside before he could talk himself out of it.
Sliding onto a bar stool, he ordered a draft from Merle.
Adam was the only patron at two in the afternoon, and after Merle slid the icy glass over the bar, he considered dumping a few dollars’ worth of quarters into the jukebox for company. He knew just what he’d play. Darius Rucker on repeat, with maybe a twist of Tim McGraw, just to keep things going. He crossed the floor and began dropping coins into the slot.
“You going to drink that?” Merle eyed Adam from across the bar. Out of quarters, Adam returned to his stool and sat. “You know, I was okay with you bringing a dog into the place, but if you’re just going to keel over and die, I’m going to have to ask you to take that outside.”
“I’m not trying to kill myself,” Adam said, but he didn’t pick up the glass. He only watched it, daring himself to take that first drink.
The door opened, and Collin and Levi walked in. Adam shot Merle a look, and the old bartender just shrugged. Darius Rucker’s smooth voice began singing about a drunk who had walked out on the woman he loved. Perfect song for his situation. His friends joined him at the bar, each ordering a beer.
“Figured we’d find you here, sooner or later.” Collin was the first to speak. “You know, moving the RV into your drive to win back Jenny was odd. Moving into the B and B was downright stupid. But mixing alcohol with the drug cocktail you’re on is perfectly moronic.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“Well, you’re getting it anyway.” Aiden joined them at the bar, and Adam wondered how long his brother had been there. The door hadn’t opened since Levi and Collin entered a moment before. Had Aiden been watching him? Why couldn’t they just let him be? He was doing the right thing here.
He was doing the only thing he could do.
“Fine, say what you have to say and get out.” Adam picked up the mug of beer and sipped. Hops and barley slid down his throat, making him feel as if he’d finally taken a step forward. He knew it was childish and dangerous, but Adam didn’t care. He’d already had everything that mattered taken away from him. Why shouldn’t he drown these lingering feelings of loss, too?
Aiden jerked the beer mug from his hand, and liquid sloshed over the gleaming mahogany of the bar. “You’re an ass, how’s that for starters?” his brother said.
“I’ve heard worse.”
“You’re an inconsiderate child who is acting like some other inconsiderate child has stolen his favorite toy.”
“What would you know about it?”
“Nothing.” Aiden went behind the bar and stared at Adam across the expanse of gleaming wood. “I don’t know anything about what you’re going through—you’ve got me on that one. What I know about is running away from problems, and running away doesn’t solve anything.”
“What have you ever run away from?”
Aiden just stared at him. “Slippery Rock.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t have a scratch on me after that crash. I walked away. They had to cut you out of the car, and then life-flighted you to the hospital in Springfield while our mother held on to our father’s arm as if it was the only solid thing she could find. I saw what that did to them. What I did to them, and I vowed then and there to walk away as soon as I could.”
“You left because of me?”
“No, I left because of what I’d done to you. I knew I shouldn’t have driven that night, but I didn’t care.”
“It wasn’t your fault there was black ice on the road.”
Aiden shrugged. “It was my hubris that made me leave the house that night, all because I wanted to see a girl.”
“You didn’t make me come along.”
“I didn’t stop you, either.”
But that didn’t make what had happened in high school the same as what Adam was dealing with now. He hadn’t caused that accident any more than he had caused the tornado a few months before. Years ago, he’d needed surgery and a long time to heal. Now, there was no amount of surgery or healing that could fix what was wrong with him. No matter what anyone else said.
“That was different. A neck injury isn’t the same as epilepsy.” He hated that word. It meant he was weak. He didn’t want to be weak.
“The difference between now and then is then you took back your life. Now you’re letting your life be taken from you.” Levi’s deep voice seemed loud in the quiet bar. Darius Rucker’s voice had faded into silence, and Tim McGraw’s hadn’t yet begun to fill the space. “This doesn’t have to be the end of everything you want.”
“Like that tackle a few years ago wasn’t the end of everything you wanted, Levi?”
“That was different. Football is a game that I walked away from. You’re planning on walking away from your life.”
They made it sound like he planned to walk into Slippery Rock Lake with a weight locked around his neck. Adam didn’t want to kill himself; he only wanted to not hurt the people he loved.
“I’m giving her space to move on.”
“What if she doesn’t want to move on?” This time Collin spoke up. “What if she wants to be right here with you?”
“She deserves better.” Maybe if he kept repeating those words, his brain would finally take them in. Jenny deserved all the best things. Good job, good kids, a husband who could take care of her. Adam couldn’t work, he’d scared the hell out of their kids and he couldn’t even do laundry without messing it up. He was useless to Jenny.
“Who said anything about what
she deserves? What about what she wants? What she wants is you, you big jerk,” Aiden declared.
None of this mattered. Adam slipped off the bar stool. He walked out of the place without another word.
Adam didn’t have a destination in mind; he just wanted space. Space and time. His feet had other ideas, though, because ten minutes later, he stood before the house that used to be his home. Sheba sat beside him, staring at the blue front door.
He was right. Jenny did deserve better than him. It didn’t matter what anyone else said or thought. He knew he was right in this. That was what mattered.
Adam went around to the backyard, slipped through the gate and in the back door. He knew what he needed to do: stop waiting around and leave already. He wanted one thing to take with him before he left.
He found the picture on the mantel, a snapshot he’d taken of Jenny and the boys the summer before everything fell apart. They’d been building sand castles on the narrow beach when he got home from a softball game. In the waning sunset, he’d watched the three of them measure sand, add walls and begin to decorate. He’d been torn between watching them and joining in the fun. In the end, he’d slipped inside the house to grab the camera. He’d snapped fifteen pictures before any of them realized he was there. Once they saw him, they’d drawn him into their sand castle building.
If he stayed, he’d get drawn back into their lives, little by little. And little by little, he would watch all of them give up something they wanted or needed. For him. He couldn’t let that happen. Adam picked up the picture, slid it out of the frame and put it in his back pocket.
The door banged open, and Frankie ran down the hallway. He held a certificate in his hands and had an excited look on his face. The expression dimmed when he saw Adam standing at the mantel.
“Hey, buddy,” Adam said. “How was school? And where’s your brother?”
“School was good. Garrett will be here in a minute. He was right behind me.”
“And your mom?” He didn’t hear Jenny’s footsteps in the hall, but she had to be close. She wouldn’t let the boys walk home from school alone.
“She’s with Garrett.”
“Oh.” Adam should go before she got home, before he talked himself out of leaving, just like he’d done before. He needed to be stronger than that.
Frankie slid his backpack from his shoulders and held out the piece of paper.
“For Creative Excellence” it read, along with a handwritten notation on the line below.
“The principal said I had the most unique costume on Hero Day. She said Mrs. Hess’s puppy put it over the top. What does ‘over the top’ mean?”
“It’s kind of like an exaggeration, or like what you did was better than what anyone else did.”
“Cool.”
It was cool. There had been several other kids wearing sports uniforms, but Frankie had been one of the few to dress up like an actual football player instead of a football fan. And the dog had been cute, even if it made it inside the school for only a few moments before everything went crazy.
“It is cool.”
“Are you home now?”
Adam wasn’t sure how to answer that. Saying no felt wrong, but saying yes didn’t feel any more right. “I just had to pick something up.”
“Oh.” Frankie put the sheet of paper on the coffee table. “I wasn’t afraid.”
“Frankie...”
“Well, maybe a little.”
“It’s okay. The seizures scare me a little, too.” More like a lot. More like fear the size of Australia. Frankie didn’t need to know that, though. Adam knelt before his son, ignoring the slight twinge in his hip as he hunkered down on the living room floor.
“Mom says the doctors are trying to fix you.”
“They are.”
“When they fix you, will you come home?”
Adam shook his head. “I don’t think that is a good idea, buddy.” The words seemed inadequate, but Adam was unsure how to explain the feelings of inadequacy and fear to a little boy who saw him as a hero. Heroes weren’t afraid of anything, and although he was trying to step quietly out of their lives, Adam wanted to be the hero that Frankie saw him as.
“Why not?”
“Because they may not be able to fix me.”
“But maybe they can.”
He wanted that sentiment to be true. So badly. Adam’s heart squeezed at the serious expression on his little boy’s face.
The back door opened and closed again, as Frankie threw his arms around Adam’s neck.
“They can fix you, I know they can. But even if they can’t, you should come home. So we can take care of you,” he whispered.
Adam closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing in and out.
“Dad!” Garrett squealed when he saw them in the living room, then launched himself into Adam’s arms, too. “You’re back. We missed you.”
“I missed you guys, too.” Adam’s gaze clashed with Jenny’s across the living room. He untangled the boys’ arms and stood. “I need to talk to your mom for a minute, guys.”
“’Bout what?” Garrett asked, but Frankie was already pulling his brother up the stairs.
When they reached the top, Adam turned to Jenny. “Hi.”
“Hello,” she said, her voice frigid. She unzipped her hoodie and hung it in the closet near the front door, along with the boys’ backpacks.
“I didn’t think you’d be home.”
“I figured.”
“I’ll get out of your hair,” he stated, unsure what else there was to say. Hi, I broke into our house to steal a family photo? He didn’t think Jenny would find that amusing. Pathetic, not amusing.
“What are you doing here, Adam?”
He started to tell her the truth, but changed his mind. “I thought I’d left something behind.”
“We have your old football stuff, your collection of Steve McQueen movies and chipped Elvis glassware. Take your pick.” She crossed her arms over her chest. The circles under her eyes seemed even darker than they had the night he’d walked out. Adam’s chest squeezed.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jen.”
She shook her head. “Well, congratulations, you accomplished something you didn’t mean to.”
He hated to see that defeated set to her shoulders, the exhaustion on her face. He wanted to wipe it all away. Take on all that stress and pain. If he could do that he would, but he didn’t know how to without also opening her up to more pain in the future. Adam refused to do that.
“If I could change it—”
“You would. I get it.”
Adam crossed to the hallway that would take him to the backyard. Maybe he would be able to breathe once he was outside. “I am sorry, Jenny.”
She drew her lower lip between her teeth, but didn’t say anything. Adam walked out the door, then paused, leaning against the fence for a moment, trying to draw air into his lungs.
“You can’t just go, Dad,” Frankie said. He’d come outside and now stood at the edge of the patio, that certificate in his hands. “In class today we read a story about heroes. And after the story, Mrs. Kelcher said real heroes are afraid.”
Adam didn’t think the boy had heard his teacher correctly. Courage meant being braver than whatever fear tried to hold you back. He’d lost his courage the day he woke up in that hospital bed.
“That was just a story, buddy.”
“No, it wasn’t. She took the book off the nonfiction shelf in our classroom. That means it’s true.” Frankie frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “In the story, the general was afraid, but he asked his men to fight with him, anyway, because what they were fighting for was more important. She said that is what real courage is. Being afraid, but knowing that what you want is more important than being
afraid. She said it. She said a real hero fights even when he is afraid. It’s okay to be scared.”
Adam had no idea what book the kid had read in class, but it didn’t matter. Nonfiction or fiction, that story had been about soldiers. Not an ex-football-playing woodworker.
Frankie launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist. “You’re still my hero, Dad. You just have to remember.”
Adam wasn’t sure what to do. Push his son away? He couldn’t do that. He patted the little boy’s shoulders. “Remember what?”
“That it’s okay to be scared.”
“Frankie,” Adam began, but stopped himself. He loosened the boy’s arms, then sat with him at the table.
“It really is okay to be scared, Dad,” Frankie said earnestly.
Adam didn’t want to be afraid. He didn’t want his sons to be. Or Jenny. But he had no idea how to stop.
“I don’t want to be scared,” he admitted, and it was as if those few words loosened the fear that had been choking him since the seizure. Fear that had insisted Jenny and the boys would be better off without him. That he would be better off alone, independent. Without any of the ties that could lead to the pain of those moments he’d been stuck under the rubble of the old church.
Love for his boys and his wife had sent him out into the tornado.
Fear of the pain that came from the destruction had made him hide from them for the past few months.
“I don’t, either.”
Adam sighed. He was positive of one thing: it was too late to fix the mess he’d made of his life by letting fear rule his actions. But if Frankie’s teacher was right, courage meant a person chose to fight not because he wasn’t afraid, but because there was something greater than fear on the other side of the battle.
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