Keith gives her a look, like she just broke the seal on a topic they were all hoping wouldn’t see the light of day.
Hunter clears his throat and sets down his fork. “So, we’re finally going to talk about it then?”
“It might not be a good time,” Keith says, working extra hard at his big smile. “How much snow you think we’ll get tonight?”
“Should we start with Clyde Mitchell being a fucking pedophile,” Hunter says, ignoring his brother’s plea. “Or go right to the way we never dealt with Mom’s death?” He looks right at his father who now looks like he wants to murder his own son.
“We can talk about this later,” Billy offers.
“No. Not later,” Hunter says. “We’re going to talk about it now.”
“You’ve shamed us,” his father begins, his voice shaky, but his face so dark, his shoulders so tense, that he looks ready to blow.
Hunter laughs, a dismissive, angry laugh. “By getting molested? That how I did it Dad?”
“You slept with that woman… that married woman,” his father says in a burst of angry words. “Shameful!”
Hunter balls up his napkin and throws it on his plate. “What about all of the whores you brought into our house after Mom died, huh Dad? They weren’t exactly the cream of the crop, were they? You just got whoever would take pity on a drunk. Hell, I bet you couldn’t even get it up half of the time.”
“You can’t talk to Dad like that,” Keith says, his smile vanishing.
“Can’t I? I think I have the right considering Dad’s the one who sent me off to Clyde Mitchell because he preferred drowning in a bottle with his whores. And then he sent me back, over and over again, even when I begged him not to.”
“He wouldn’t if he knew what was happening,” Keith says, his voice low.
“Oh, so you finally can admit something did happen, huh? Can you say it out loud Keith, that your brother was fucking molested!”
“I sent you a text. I support you—I believe you,” Keith says.
Hunter laughs again. “A text? You think a fucking text is enough?”
Billy stands up. “Let’s not yell. This isn’t good for the baby.”
“It’s okay,” Kristie says, gripping her boyfriend’s arm. “I’m fine, and the baby’s fine. I think you guys really need to listen to Hunter. You aren’t being fair to him.”
I’m not sure what I expect Billy to do, but he looks down at Kristie and nods before switching his attention back to Hunter. “I’m sorry, Hunter,” he says in a conciliatory tone. “I didn’t want to believe that you had to go through that. I just didn’t want to know about it, didn’t want to think about it. Ignorance was bliss for me, but I know it wasn’t for you. I’m so incredibly sorry for whatever hurt I’ve caused you.” He hangs his head down, and though I’m sure he’d rather not, he begins to cry in front of all of us.
“Thank you,” Hunter says, watching as Billy sits down, Kristie wrapping her comforting arm around him.
I reach for Hunter’s hand, and I hold it, offering him a warm smile. We’re making progress, I hope to say with it.
Keith clears his throat, and I see Madison nudging him. Then she says, “Your turn, honey,” making no attempt at hiding her voice.
Hunter’s oldest brother sighs, then swallows hard. He lifts his head and finally looks at Hunter, and I can already see the emotion beginning to well in his eyes. “I just wanted you to be able to forget it,” he says, his voice breaking. “I didn’t think there was anything I could do, but I want you to know that I tried. I did try, brother.”
Hunter tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes. “What do you mean, you tried?”
“I’m six years older than you, brother,” he says. “I heard things, stuff you tried to tell Dad. I believed what you said, and if he wasn’t going to do anything—” He turns to their father. “Sorry, Dad, but I have to be honest. You didn’t want to believe your son, but I knew he wasn’t a liar. I had to do something.” He returns his gaze to Hunter. “I thought I was hot shit back then, that I could conquer the world. That’s how I felt when I walked into the sheriff’s department and asked to talk to Clyde Mitchell himself.” Keith shakes his head, as if he’s picturing doing this all over again. “I was fuming when I went in there, and I told him I knew what he was and what he’d done to my little brother and that I was going to kick his ass.”
Hunter’s grip on my hand tightens.
“He laughed at first and told me I didn’t have a clue what I was talking about, but I told him I did know, that my little brother wasn’t a liar. And that’s when he got nasty, came up and grabbed me by the neck and pushed me up against the wall. He said some stuff to me, shit I’m not going to repeat, but he pretty much admitted what he’d done and told me he was done with you, to leave it alone, that if I ever mentioned this to anyone else, he’d cut your throat with his hunting knife. And I’m sorry, Hunter, but by the crazy look in his eyes, I thought he’d really do it. I’m still shocked I didn’t piss myself right there.”
Hunter is at first speechless at the weight of what’s just been said, finally saying, “I had no idea.”
“After that, all I’ve wanted was for you to forget about it and leave it be, that it was better for all of our sakes to bury it, to move on. I know that was wrong—I can see that now, that you can’t really bury something like that away. All we did was make it worse.”
Mr. Lawrence still stares at Hunter from across the table, his features tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. I can’t begin to guess at what might be going through his mind now, if he’s ready to deny he knew a thing about what was going on or if he’ll apologize like his sons just have. For Hunter, I’m praying it will be the latter.
“You’re not going to say anything, are you?” Hunter finally asks the man.
“He’s not well,” Billy says. “Maybe this is all too much for him.”
“Your dad is stronger than you think,” Kristie says.
Keith nods and looks over at Mr. Lawrence. “Dad, I think you should tell Hunter what you really feel. There’s no reason to pretend anymore… or be angry. Just say it, okay?”
It’s obvious from the way Keith talks to his father that they’ve spoken about this very issue, probably not deeply enough to resolve anything, but enough for Keith to know there’s more to Mr. Lawrence’s feelings than what he’s ever shown Hunter.
“Yeah, Dad, say it,” Hunter prods, that edge returning to his voice.
And just as that last word comes out of Hunter’s mouth, his father grimaces, his face tightening and then lowering, loud, racking sobs coming out of him. Keith is standing now, his hand on his father’s back, and Hunter looks on, then turns to me as if I might be able to explain what’s happening.
“Go to him,” I say, releasing the grip I have on his hand.
And he does.
When Mr. Lawrence finally looks up, he sees Hunter and begins to sob again. “I failed you,” he says breathlessly. “I blamed you so I didn’t have to blame myself for not listening to you… for believing in you… because believing you meant there was just another tragedy to deal with… one more unspeakable thing to try to accept… but I let you down… I let… you… down.”
Moving beyond whatever anger and unresolved issues he has for his father, Hunter steps closer and puts his hand on his father’s shoulder.
“I miss her so much,” Mr. Lawrence says, continuing to cry. “My world ended when she died… ended… and I didn’t think it was worth living. I let all of you down… my boys… and I didn’t protect you, Hunter. She’d hate me for it… I hate myself for it. Your mother and your aunt both would be so disappointed in how I’ve treated you, how I’ve hardened my heart and made your life as miserable as mine. I’m the one that sent you to that son of a bitch because I wanted you out of my hair. But you needed me. Keith and Billy took care of each other, but you needed me, Hunter.”
I’m in tears now, sobbing actually, and it’s Kristie who gets up an
d wraps her arms around me, saying, “It’s going to be okay. They’re finally getting it all out.”
It’s going to be okay.
And as I watch Hunter bend down to hug his father, I really believe that’s true.
Chapter Twenty-Six
HUNTER
I wake up with Alli in my arms, under the covers of her bed, her naked skin warm against mine. She’s sleeping, her chest softly rising and falling, her long eyelashes touching the smooth skin below her eyes.
It’s Friday, the day we’ll be getting married, the second morning I’ve woken having to convince myself that this is really my life, that I’m about to marry the most beautiful woman in the world, that I’ve finally gotten the answers I wanted for so long from my father.
The pain he felt over my mother’s death made him an angry, bitter man, unwilling—maybe even unable—to accept more tragedy into his life. And he held tight to that anger, like it was the only thing keeping him alive, even when maybe all he wanted was to die. He’d apologized to me so many times at Keith’s that I thought he was going to pass out from the emotional and physical toll his admission was taking on him. We finally went into the living room where my brothers, my dad and I continued to talk.
It was painful and uncomfortable, but necessary. What I learned that night was that my family was harboring their own pain, unequipped to fix our relationship, believing it better to forget something than to face it. I understood because, as much as I needed their acknowledgement, I wouldn’t have wanted to dwell on it. I’d have buried it as soon as they admitted I hadn’t made it all up. Now I know acknowledging something is only the first step in fixing it, trust and forgiveness still ahead of us.
We all agreed we needed some kind of family therapist to get us through the rest, but for now, the peace I feel with them is more than I ever expected to get.
Somewhere in the mix, I cautiously brought up the accident with my dad. I asked him if he’d ever spoken with Mr. Turner at the paper about not running any stories on it. He said no, he didn’t think he had, but those days were so dark he couldn’t be sure. There wasn’t anything else strange that he remembered either, only that when he realized the love of his life was really gone, nothing—sadly, not even his kids—seemed to matter anymore.
Maybe what happened to my mother and aunt was just the tragic accident we always believed it was. My mother who loved animals so much might have even swerved for a squirrel or a crow that wouldn’t get out of the way. Somehow, I wanted that to be true so I could let both of them just rest in peace.
But there was still that sliver of doubt in my mind, one I wasn’t ready to let go of.
Alli moves against me, then slowly opens her eyes and looks up at me. “You’re awake,” she says sweetly.
I kiss her on the tip of her nose. “I am. We’ve got a big day head.”
“You’re going to be my husband,” she says.
“And you’ll be my wife.” I kiss her lips and keep on going, unable to stop at just that.
Sex with Alli is the most amazing thing. When I enter her, she ties up my heart and my soul—it’s like she’s becoming a part of me and me a part of her. Our euphoria moves beyond physical pleasure, pleasure that’s already off the charts. When I come, I make more noise than I mean to, forgetting for a minute Alli’s parents are just downstairs.
Once we catch our breaths, I say, “I didn’t mean to be that loud.”
She laughs, so sweetly. “Maybe my parents will just think it was a bear or something.”
“Hey, at least a bear is big and strong, right?” I turn back to her and drag my fingers down her side.
“You’re my bear,” she says, and damn if she doesn’t get me riled up all over again.
After our second go round, I promise Alli I’ll be good.
With a smile, she says, “You were already good.”
“You know, I never used to understand the whole soul mate thing before, but I get it now.”
“Me too,” she says. “More than ever.”
I can’t imagine a life without Alli in it, and I can see how hard it was for my dad to live his life without my mother, how it pretty much destroyed him. I hope there’s enough time left for him to see that me and my brothers and his grandchild that’s about to be born are reason enough to live.
There isn’t any time to waste once Alli and I get out of bed. We’ve got a wedding to prepare for, a small wedding, but still a life altering event that I want to make perfect for her. I’m the first to leave her parents’ house, kissing her goodbye with a promise to see her at the church I drive to with Mr. Briggs.
“Do you do a lot of weddings?” I ask him, the excitement of what’s to come buzzing through me.
“Half a dozen or so a year,” he says, “but this one I’ll treasure for all of my life. I’m glad she’s chosen you, Hunter.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I feel pretty damn lucky she said yes, myself.”
“She’s a special girl, and I’m not just saying that because I’m her father. I’ve always known my daughter to be strong and kind and independent. She has a great deal of love in her heart to give, and I’m sure you already know that.”
“I do.”
He nods thoughtfully. “And you’ll take care of her and love her back. I can see that.”
“I will. I promise you, sir. That’s exactly what I’ll do.”
When we get to the church, Mr. Briggs shakes my hand, and then he looks at his watch. “You can change in the back, and I expect your friends and family will be here shortly?”
I check the time on my phone. “Any minute now.”
I’ve invited my dad, my brothers, Madison and Kristie, and Josh is driving over from Seattle. He’ll be my best man, and Alli has asked Mallory to act as her maid of honor. She has some friends here in town she said she would have asked to be bridesmaids if the wedding were going to be larger, but she’d drifted apart from them over the last year, and I understood that. I’d lost touch with most of my friends from high school too.
Josh is the first to arrive, and I’m grateful for it. I’m more at ease with him than I am with my brothers—It’ll take time to get to know them again.
“Look at the two of us in monkey suits,” he says as we stand in front of a full-length mirror. “I never thought I’d see the day the great Hunter Lawrence would settle down, but here we are, and you’re a smart man to marry Allison.”
“I’d be an idiot not to,” I say. “And what about you and Mallory?”
“What about me and Mallory?” He looks at me like I’m insane.
“I’m just saying, maybe you should think about asking her out sometime. I mean, she drove here with you, right?”
He lets out a cutting laugh. “She’s out of my league, man.”
Before I can argue Josh’s point, the door opens, and Logan walks through it.
“There’s my man!” Josh says. “Where the hell did you get to?”
“Grace wanted to look around the church,” Logan says, wearing the suit I’d had tailored for his dance at the hospital. “I didn’t want to just leave her out there by herself.”
“Glad you made it,” I say, stepping toward my young friend, shaking his hand and giving him a hug. “Hope you didn’t mind driving up with this guy,” I say, pointing my thumb toward Josh.
“Mallory kept telling him to slow down.” Logan laughs, and it’s good to see him laughing. Then he raises his eyebrows and says, “Besides, I didn’t have any complaints. I was too busy in the backseat with Grace.”
“This dude is a little Casanova!” Josh says. “Smooth as they come. The ladies are going to need to watch out.”
“Grace is the only one for me,” Logan says, his expression as serious as it gets.
“You’re still young,” Josh reminds him. “Wait a few years, and you might want to sample a little bit of this and a little bit of that.”
“If I’m alive in a few years,” Logan says, without even a hint of self-pity. “But even the
n, I’ve already found the best, so why waste time with anyone else?”
“Smart man,” I tell Logan. “Smart man indeed.”
My brothers both arrive in suits, though I’d begun to believe Keith only owned flannel and denim. Dad’s wearing a suit too, and he’s in a wheelchair. Even though Keith says it’s just for when he leaves the house, it’s still going to take some getting used to. But I will. If Dad and I are going to actually be a part of each other’s lives again, there’ll be a lot to get used to.
Dad’s able to stand to meet Josh and Logan, and the introductions go well. Then everyone’s attention turns to me, doing their best to keep me calm, but I can barely contain myself.
The moment I can finally make Alli my wife can’t come soon enough.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ALLISON
“Mom, maybe this isn’t the right time, but I’d like to ask you something.” We’re in my bedroom, me putting the finishing touches on my makeup while Mom sits on my bed, busying herself with arranging the bouquet of white roses and lilies that I’ll hold when I walk down the aisle.
She looks up at me, slight concern etching the corners of her eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s about Abe… and Sheila, and I’m afraid if I don’t ask now, I’ll never get around to it.”
She looks back at the flowers and fiddles with the fabric bow wrapped around the stems. “Okay,” she says. “You can ask.”
I take in a breath, then exhale, and hope for the decorum to ask my question in a way that won’t come off as accusatory. The last thing I’d want is to get into a fight on a day that should be happy for all of us. Sitting next to her, I finally get it out, saying, “You understand that Abe was gay, right?”
She stops what she’s doing and sets the flowers down before turning her full attention to me. “Yes, Allison… I knew that. Even with him dating Olivia, your father and I both knew.”
“He was afraid to come out,” I say, not sure if I’m surprised or not that my parents knew. “I don’t think he believed either of you would understand.”
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