Newness and Wonder

by Alexis Lynne

  She looked at him as he walked toward her, her face changed as she guarded herself against another fight. He must be a lot easier to read. When he was within arms’ reach, he stuck out his hand.

  “Give me the phone, Marley.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t act surprised. You knew your teacher would tell me about you using it in class.”

  “So I won’t take it to school.”

  “You won’t have it at all. When you are able to behave normally in society, then we can talk about you having it back.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “‘Normally’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you talk—to me, to your counselor, your friends. You can’t hide behind that thing forever.”

  “You can’t take it.”

  Her distraught voice nearly had him faltering. For the first time since they walked together out of the judge’s chambers when Justin was granted guardianship, Marley looked like she was going to cry.

  He kept his voice and his gaze steady, taking the phone from her hand. “I’m sorry, Marley.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She looked at the floor as she walked past him, taking care not to get too close. He could hear her stop on the second floor and enter the room she had been sleeping in. Justin expected to hear a door slam. Instead only the click of the old, rusty knob reached his ears, causing his conscience to ache even more.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tara shivered and picked up her mug from the table beside her easel. Her small studio, which had been converted from a detached garage, was always chilly in winter, even with the heat pumping. She had been up all night with Shelby’s words ringing in her ears as she painted. Tara knew Shelby was right. She had things she needed to work through, regardless of how hard it might be.

  She had started the journey, she now realized, the day she came back from talking to Father Alex. Tara had allowed the pain to take over as she held her brush, expecting to end up with a portrait of her mother. At the end of the day, what she saw instead was the green of her father’s eyes set against the backdrop of a swirling tempest.

  The impact of it had not hit her, however, until last night when she arranged all her new pieces on the table to view. It happens like that sometimes. The reflection of something hits harder than the actual event. She had not allowed his desertion to affect her in years, or at least that is what she had believed. He had actually destroyed a little piece of her, one that had not begun to grow back until recently.

  As she often did when her emotions became too difficult to control, she turned her eyes to the one piece of her own artwork that she displayed on the wall. The watercolor painting was the first rendering she had ever done of the farmhouse. Though it was one of her earlier works, it had always been one of her favorites. It was light and happy and showed the old house in the complete restoration Tara had planned. The painting, and the thought behind it, had always brought her peace. Now, as she stared at it, the image seemed off. There were too many layers.

  Tara quickly cleared away the acrylics and set up clean brushes and watercolors. After placing the canvas on her easel, she stared at it for a long while, not quite knowing what to do. Every moment brought more chaos to her thoughts.

  She picked up a brush, hoping the movement would calm her. One stroke in, a knock sounded at her door, and she gratefully put the brush back down. Distraction from the whirlwind inside her was welcome. She opened the door to find a disheveled-looking Justin standing there.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He looked toward her easel. “I’m interrupting your work.”

  She shook her head and pulled him inside. “Take off your coat and tell me what happened.”

  He obeyed and sank down into the oversized chair she kept in the corner, looking as helpless as a man his size could. She squeezed in next to him and pulled her feet under her, allowing her knees to cross his lap, instinctively providing support. He put his arm around her and dropped his head to hers.

  “I’ve made a mess of everything, Tara. I never should have moved Marley here.”

  She moved her head back so she could see him. “I thought things were better, that she was adjusting.”

  “I thought so, too. We argued last night and this morning. Badly.” He pulled a phone from his pocket. “I took her phone away. Her teacher emailed yesterday and said Marley had been caught with it in class twice this week and asked me to make sure she doesn’t bring it back. I’ve been so frustrated with her and this damn phone for months.”

  He swiped the screen and tapped on the photo app. “I looked at it this morning after I dropped her off. I don’t know what I thought I would find.”

  He drew a breath and handed her the phone. “There’s nothing on here but pictures of her mother. The Google searches are all about her, and her YouTube history is all videos of Sharon’s performances. There are no games or questionable content. The only other app is for an e-reader. Look how many books she’s downloaded. I didn’t even know she likes to read.”

  Tara swiped through the photos. Marley’s mother was beautiful. That wasn’t surprising given Marley’s unique physical qualities. Most of the pictures were of her mother alone, likely taken by Marley. The ones of the two of them together were both breathtaking and heartbreaking. It was clear they loved each other very much.

  “I took her away from every memory she has of her mother, and now I’ve taken this, too. What am I doing, Tara? Why did I think I could raise a little girl who so clearly needs more than I can offer?”

  Tara put the phone on the chair arm and wrapped her arms around him. “You love her, Justin, and you are committed to her well-being. What more can anyone offer?”

  She felt him shudder, and the hand that had been on her knee trailed up to clinch her waist, bringing her even closer.

  “She wants to stop going to counseling. That’s what started the argument.”

  She pulled back and saw the panic in his eyes. “Why does that scare you so much?”

  Tara could feel his heart pounding through the thickness of his sweater, and she gently stroked his hair until he finally spoke.

  “My mother stopped seeing her therapist, and she stopped taking her medication several times. I didn’t know about the last time until it was too late.”

  It took only a moment to realize what he was saying. “Oh, Justin.”

  “I had not spoken to her in weeks. I was in the middle of finals at Penn State and sent my cousin Josh to her apartment to check on her. She didn’t answer then or the next day when he tried again. I skipped my last exam and got to the city as quickly as I could, but I was a few hours too late. I knew as soon as I turned the key in the lock. The place was just too still—silent just as she had been.”

  Tears stung her eyes. So much made sense now. His fears for Marley. The ever-present strand of guilt in his eyes when he looked at his sister. She wanted to tuck him close and make it all go away.

  “Your mother was sick?”

  He nodded. “I never understood that when I was a kid. All I saw was the mood swings. She could be happy and full of life for weeks. She was the best mom then. So attentive and affectionate. Then she would just crash, as if she was exhausted from keeping it all up. I couldn’t see what was wrong.”

  “How could you? You were a child.”

  “I was too busy blaming my father for everything. His coldness and his absences. He would get frustrated with her when her moods were erratic and just leave. I tried to make up for it, to be enough, but I never was. And then I got frustrated, too. Instead of staying in the city for college, I moved away. I wanted to live my own life more than I wanted to help her.” He blew out a loud breath. “I can’t do that again. Not with Marley.”

  He blamed himself. That was perfectly clear, even though he was as much of a victim of the situation as his mother had been. This impossibly kind and fiercely protective man felt he had failed and was terrified of it happening again.

&nbs
p; “You’re afraid Marley’s depressed, too?”

  “I don’t know how else to explain her behavior. Her counselors have both said she doesn’t open up to them the way they would like. She never talks to me unless it’s to argue. She spends too much time alone, and I honestly don’t know what version of her is going to be sitting across from me at the dinner table.”

  “Justin,” She took his face in her hands. “That doesn’t mean she’s ill. She’s grieving and she’s twelve. If you give her enough room, she will eventually feel comfortable enough to talk to you. But you can’t let your own fears suffocate her.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “Maybe.” She leaned in and smelled his shirt. “You smell of bergamot and sandalwood.”

  “Yeah, Marley put soaps in my closet. I’m not sure what she’s trying to tell me.”

  “I helped her make those in her class. She asked me which essential oils were best for relaxation. Those are the ones she chose.”

  “For me?”

  “It seems so. You don’t see how tense she gets when she thinks you are upset. Her stance is a nearly perfect reflection of yours. Just learning how to relax around each other would be a huge improvement.”

  He blew out a long breath and leaned his head against the back of the chair. “I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.” He closed his eyes and sighed. After a few moments, his breathing steadied, and he repeated Tara’s words. “She’s grieving and she’s twelve.”

  The affirmation seemed to calm him, but she continued to stroke his face, wanting to provide comfort.

  “You know, Shelby and I were in a similar situation as Marley. Abandonment isn’t the same, but it can feel a little like death. I think the grieving process is probably similar. We had Gram to provide a safe place for us to heal. You are doing that for Marley. Don’t doubt the positive impact you have on her, even when you make mistakes. Most people have years to grow into this parenting thing. You didn’t have that luxury, but it’s still going to take time, and I know you are never going to give up.”

  He sighed, hopefully in recognition of that truth. Tara curled into him, and he did not speak for a while, just sat there stroking her hair. Tension eventually eased out of both of them.

  “How long did it take you?”

  “To what?”

  “To grieve?”

  Tara thought for a moment and then looked at her easel. This was the truth she had been painting for days but saying it out loud was still difficult. “I honestly don’t know if I ever did. I’ve just held on to the anger, to the pain. I didn’t know how it was affecting me until recently. I put all my focus on my plans for the farm, ignoring everything else. Please don’t allow yourself or Marley to do that.”

  Justin didn’t look at her, just continued his ministrations. He had come to her for comfort, but he was giving plenty of his own without realizing it. She leaned up and kissed him, hoping to convey what she was feeling even through her own confusion.

  Before long, the kiss deepened, and the hand on her waist began to move. She nearly whimpered when he pulled away just slightly, his eyes staring into hers.

  “You are so beautiful, Tara, so loving. Don’t allow yourself to do that anymore, either.”

  He kissed her again, moving over her as if he never wanted to stop. Tara surrendered to his touch and nearly drowned in the promise of it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Justin tapped his fingers against his thigh as he waited for Marley in the carline at school. He called Brandon and asked him to clear out of the farmhouse for the afternoon. He had a feeling he and his sister would not need an audience for the conversation they needed to have. One look from her as she got in the car told him that conversation wasn’t going to come easy.

  “How was your day?”

  Marley didn’t respond. She turned in her seat and looked out the window as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. Nearly every house he drove past was decorated for Christmas. Some were clearly displayed for the enjoyment of children, with colorful lights and cartoon characters. Others were understated and elegant. Justin had never considered himself a Grinch, but he had not shown much Christmas spirit in the past. He was single and alone except for his small circle of family, and Christmas was about tending to others, people you loved. Now that he had Marley and was making slow but incredibly sweet progress with Tara, he wanted it all: the decorations, the food, the music, and, most of all, the magic that came from believing in something bigger than yourself. First, he had to make things right with his sister. He drove a few miles before he tried again.

  “Marley, you have to talk to me. I’m sorry I took your phone. I didn’t realize until I looked at it why it was so important to you.”

  She turned to him. “You looked at it?”

  “I did. I had to see what was taking your attention from everything else. Marley, I don’t think I every told you how sorry I am about your mom. I’m sorry she died, and I’m sorry I never really knew her and didn’t know you until this year.”

  She didn’t answer and Justin sighed. “Marley—”

  “Just stop, okay. Just stop being so nice to me. Stop trying to take care of me. You don’t have to. I know you think you do, but you don’t.”

  They reached the farmhouse, and Justin waited until he parked to respond. “I do have to take care of you. You are my sister.”

  “Just stop!”

  Marley got out of the car and ran through the yard. Surprised by the outburst, it took Justin a moment to follow. He found her at the broken fence between the yard and the pasture, standing still as she looked toward the mountain.

  He stepped forward cautiously, fearing she would bolt again if he got too close.

  “Marley.”

  “Shh. Look.”

  Justin followed her gaze to the edge of the mountain, where a small herd of elk stood grazing. The size of them was magnificent, but their elegance was breathtaking. He stood there with his sister, at least two arm’s length between them, and watched as the beasts lowered their heads to the ground. They did not seem frightened but confident that the land belonged to them before anybody else. Before long, a smaller, but no less extraordinary, one broke free from the rest and wandered slightly away from the trees. Soon, he was joined by another, who gently attempted to guide him back to the herd.

  Justin heard Marley’s sharp inhale and turned to her. Her short breaths turned to puffs around her in the late afternoon air, and her shoulders shook. In that moment, all the walls were down. She was suddenly just a little girl surrounded by grief and wonder as she watched the giant animal gently nudge her young. She breathed in sharply, and he could see the last vestiges of her anger give way to tears—fat, silent drops that fell onto the gloved fingers that she clasped tightly on the fence. He stepped toward her, and she dropped her head.

  “I’m sorry about your mother.”

  “Thanks. It was a long time ago, but—”

  “No, I’m sorry that she—about how she died. That it was because of me and my mom.”

  Justin blinked. He shook his head, closed the distance between them, and put his hand on her shoulders, leaning down until she had no choice but to look at him.

  “Where did you get that idea?”

  More short puffs came from her as she spoke. “When you were traveling looking for houses and I was staying with Ann, Aunt Linda came by one night. I was doing my homework, but the walls are thin, and I could hear them talking. She told Ann that she hoped I realized how hard keeping me was for you, that your mother probably wouldn’t have killed herself if she hadn’t found out about us.”

  Simultaneous feelings of sadness and rage tore through him. His aunt wasn’t cruel, but her ignorance certainly made her seem so at times.

  “And how did Ann respond?”

  “If I repeated it, you probably wouldn’t give me back my phone.”

  Justin nodded. “I wish you would have listened to her and not Aunt Linda.” He kneeled
down until he could look directly in her eyes. “Marley, listen to me. What happened to my mother was not your fault. It was not your mother’s fault, or my fault, or even our father’s, though God knows I blamed him and myself enough. She was sick and had been for a very long time, probably her whole life. She had access to doctors and medication, but in the end, it was too much. Her death was as biological as cancer, and no one is responsible for it.”

  It was the truth, and for the first time, Justin accepted it. He rose and gently pulled Marley to him. She didn’t resist, and he could feel her sobs as he rocked her. He felt like he’d been kicked in the chest. The idea that this had been weighing on her for months, along with everything else, killed him.

  “Marley, you have to trust me enough to talk to me. I can’t take away your grief over losing your mom. That has to run its course. But I could have taken this off you. Guilt puts such a strain on your heart, even when there’s no need for it.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings by bringing it up. You’re wound so tight sometimes, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

  What was he saying about guilt? “I’m sorry, Marley. I think I’ll be less wound now. And I’m sorry for freaking out about counseling. You were trying to talk to me, finally, and I completely shut you down. I’ll try not to do that again. But after what happened to my mom, it scares me when people get sad.”

  “Maggie says it’s natural to be sad sometimes, even when you’re happy.”

  “Yeah, I get that now. Listen. If Maggie thinks it’s okay to stop counseling, then I’m okay with it, too. I would like us to have a couple of sessions together, though, just to work some things out.”

  She pulled away from him and nodded. “Okay.” She looked by toward the mountain. “The elk are gone. They were pretty cool, huh?”