I hesitated, not sure if I should ask. But it had been one of the defining moments of my childhood, and I didn’t know the answer. “Why did you and Dad split up?”
She stared into her tea for a long moment before answering. “I could say it was your dad’s job and how often he was away. How I felt like he prioritized his career over his family and how much I hated the fire department for being more important than me. And those things were true—or at least, they felt true at the time. But if I’m being honest, that wasn’t what broke us. We could have worked through the growing pains of a young marriage and a young career. We were working through them.”
“Then what broke you?”
“When Charles and Helena Bailey died.”
“Gavin’s parents?”
Mom nodded slowly. “I didn’t see it at the time, but in hindsight, yes. Charlie and Lena were our best friends. Your dad and Charlie grew up together, of course. When I met your dad, Charlie and Lena were dating, and the four of us became best friends. Inseparable, really. We double dated, went camping, took road trips. We were in each other’s weddings. I threw all of Lena’s baby showers and she threw mine when I was expecting you. They were family.
“When they died, it was so shocking. Traumatic, even. Your dad and I lost the people we were closest to, besides each other. Everyone grieves in their own way, but looking back, I think we grieved our way apart. We stopped doing so many of the things we loved because it hurt too much without Charlie and Lena. Your dad turned to work and his crew to get through the pain. I coped by throwing myself into work and motherhood. We were grieving the same thing, but we didn’t grieve together.
“Eventually, we weren’t communicating at all, except to argue. Little frustrations grew into big resentments. And none of it felt like things we could work through. But how can you work through anything when you aren’t really talking? When every time things get hard, you both retreat into your own world, instead of finding common ground? Pretty soon there is no common ground. It’s just a battlefield.”
“So you left.”
“I did. At first we said it was just a separation, but time went on and it didn’t seem like anything was going to change. I filed for divorce, but that was after we’d agreed to it.”
“When you moved back here, did you think something would happen with Dad?”
She took a slow, deep breath. “I probably wouldn’t have admitted it the day I blew in here with a moving truck. But yes, I did. Or maybe I just hoped.”
“You still love him, don’t you?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but the front door flew open and Dad came in. “Caroline?”
“We’re in here,” she called.
Dad strode into the kitchen with purpose, his eyes on Mom. “Can you come outside? I have something to show you.”
She glanced down at her clothes—a silky long-sleeved shirt and floral lounge pants. Even in comfies, Mom was fashionable. “Sure, why not.”
“Skylar?” he asked.
“Okay.”
We followed Dad out the front door.
Parked in the driveway was a beautifully restored Cadillac convertible. It was bright cherry red with red and white interior, whitewall tires, and big fins on the back.
“Oh my god,” Mom said. “Is that a ’59 Cadillac?”
“Nineteen fifty-nine Cadillac series 62 convertible,” Dad said, pride in his voice. “Just like—”
“Just like the one we had when we got married.” She wandered closer to the car and lightly touched the fender with her fingertips. “Is this yours?”
“Sure is. I hired Evan Bailey to restore it for me. He texted this morning to say it was finished.”
“It’s beautiful.”
A flood of memories filled my mind. I remembered this car—or the one Dad used to have. We’d gone for drives on sunny days with the top down. Stopped for ice cream in town or driven the winding mountain highway between here and Echo Creek. I remembered the wind blowing in my face. My parents smiling at each other in the front seat.
Those were good memories. Happy memories.
Dad stood in front of my mom, his hand resting on the driver’s side door. “When I bought it, I said I wanted it so I could take Skylar out again. Maybe reconnect with her a little. But then you came home and I thought…”
“You thought what?” Mom asked.
“We had a lot of good memories in that old Caddy. I thought maybe we could make some more.”
“Norman—”
He stepped closer and took her hand. “Caroline, I know we went wrong all those years ago. And I figure we still have some things we need to work through. But you are the love of my life. Not were. Are.”
My eyes filled with tears and I put a hand to my mouth. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“What are you saying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re home, where you’ve always belonged, and I want you to stay. We’ll do the hard work and we’ll figure this out. But I’m tired of living without you. Having you home reminded me how much I love you, even when you’re driving me crazy. Maybe especially when you’re driving me crazy.”
She laughed. “I love you too.”
Dad pulled her in close and her arms went around his neck as he kissed her.
Oh my god. I’d just witnessed my parents getting back together.
As happy as I was for them, I felt like I’d suffered emotional whiplash. I had so much going through my mind, I hardly knew what to do with all of it. Gavin saying that we should get married. The way he’d left, hurt and upset. And now my dad declaring his love for my mom and asking her to stay. It was so much, I thought I might burst.
Dad stopped kissing her and glanced at me with a bit of guilt. “Sorry, Skylar.”
“No, don’t be. This is amazing.”
“Should we take her out?” Dad asked. “Go for a nice drive? It’s chilly, but we can bundle up. Or I can put the top up if you want.”
“Leave it down,” Mom said, a giddy smile on her face. “I have warm clothes.”
“Why don’t you two go,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Dad asked.
Mom gave me an understanding smile and put a hand on Dad’s arm. “We'll go for a family drive soon.”
I walked over and hugged them both together. My heart was so full and so broken at the same time. I couldn’t have been happier for my parents. With everything they’d been through, they’d always loved each other. I could see that now.
As for me, it was like I didn’t know up from down anymore. I’d thought I had a good handle on my relationship with Gavin—such as it was. Boy, had I been wrong.
And now I didn’t know what I was going to do.
39
Gavin
I walked into Gram’s house with my shoulders slumped. I’d been a dumbass, and with the way stories got around in this town, she probably knew all about it. Why else would she have called Asher?
Facing the music was never fun. If I was lucky, maybe there would be cookies at the end of it.
Kinda felt like I deserved a little bit of luck today.
“In here, Otter,” she called from the kitchen.
I found her sitting at the big table with a book and a mug of tea. She smiled at me and gestured to the chair across from her.
I pulled it out and dropped into it.
“Is it really so bad?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She didn’t laugh at my misery. Just reached across the table to squeeze one of my hands. “You have grass in your hair.”
I reached up to brush my hands over my head a few times. I didn’t particularly want to explain why. Gram didn’t know about the Arena. Actually, she probably did, because she basically knew everything. But if she did, she pretended she didn’t.
“What happened out there on that bridge?” she asked.
“A tree fell in the storm. Hit the bridge while Caroline and Skylar were trying to drive a
cross. They were stuck, but we got them out before the supports failed.”
“I know about that part. What happened to you?”
I looked down at the table for a long moment. “I guess I got scared.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Fear is normal. Healthy, even, when it’s directed at the right thing. But it also takes practice to manage. And you can’t practice if you don’t recognize what you’re dealing with.”
“I’m not lying when I say things usually don’t scare me. I can stand on the edge of a cliff or run into a burning building and I’m not afraid.”
“I believe you. You’ve had a lot of practice at managing that kind of fear. You know how to do more than manage it. You know how to use it to drive you. But injury or death aren’t the only things to fear. Your dad had to learn that lesson the hard way, too.”
I kept my eyes on the table.
“He liked danger. It didn’t seem like anything scared him. He wasn’t afraid of heights or spiders or storms or flying. He wasn’t even afraid of pretty girls.”
That made me crack a smile. “What finally scared him?”
“I think he had little doses of fear when he and your mom were dating. They were young and learning how to build a relationship. That’s bound to be rocky. But even marriage didn’t truly scare Charlie. Just like your grandad, once he set his mind to something, he was relentless until he got what he wanted. And what he wanted was your mom.”
“Do you think they just knew?”
She nodded slowly. “I think they did. They knew what they had was special, even before they were ready to make it official.”
“If marriage didn’t scare Dad, what did?”
“Fatherhood,” she said with a smile.
“He was afraid to have kids?”
“Oh, no. He was excited to have a baby. The whole time Lena was pregnant with Asher, he was the happiest, proudest father-to-be you’d ever seen.” She paused, smiling again. Her eyes were unfocused, like she was reaching back in time and seeing things as they’d once been. “It wasn’t until Asher was born that Charlie really learned about fear.”
“How?”
“There’s something about holding a newborn baby in your arms that brings it all home. Charlie was so jumpy with Asher, he drove your mom crazy. Always afraid someone was going to drop him or he’d get too hot or too cold. Worried about every little peep he made. Although when it came down to it, those things weren’t what really bothered him. Having a child brought his biggest fear to the surface. The fear of losing the people he loved.”
“And you think that’s my biggest fear too?”
“It’s up there. And a close call can certainly bring that demon out of hiding. But I think there’s something else you’re afraid of almost as much. A fear you carry in your heart every day.”
Reluctantly, I met her eyes. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she had to say.
“You have lost people you love, and anyone would fear living through that pain again. But I think underneath that, you’re afraid that you don’t matter.”
“Do we have to talk about this now? I’ve had a rough couple of days.”
“I know you have, but yes, we do.”
I scrubbed my hands up and down my face, letting her words sink in. She was right. I was afraid I didn’t matter. That my life was irrelevant.
“I don’t remember them,” I said, not quite sure where I was going with this. Only that I needed to finally say it out loud, here in this house. “I don’t have a single memory of Mom and Dad. They lived, and did things, and got married, and had a bunch of kids, and I’ve got nothing of that.”
“You were so young.”
“I know. And I know it’s not their fault that they died. They didn’t want to leave us.”
“No, they didn’t.”
My throat felt thick and tears threatened to prick at my eyes. “I don’t even know if I miss them, or just the idea of them. How can you miss someone you don’t even remember?”
“You can, Otter. Because your spirit knew them, and your spirit remembers. Even when our minds don’t hold onto our memories, our spirits do.” She pointed to my chest. “In there. That’s where they still live. They’re a part of you, and they always will be. You weren’t old enough to keep the memories they left you, but they made you out of themselves. Out of their love.”
“Yeah, well, except they didn’t mean to have me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I know I was an accident. They didn’t plan to get pregnant again.”
She smiled, deepening the lines around her eyes. “When you put your hand on a stone, or the side of a mountain, what does it say to you? It says I am immovable. I am as permanent as the earth itself. But we know that isn’t so. Water flows relentlessly past the stone, grinding it away to sand. Gavin, you have the spirit of water in you. Relentlessly flowing from the mountain to the sea. You were a surprise, but you were also inevitable. There was nothing that was going to stop your spirit from entering this world.”
“Even if they didn’t want me?”
Gram got quiet for a second. I couldn’t quite meet her eyes, but I knew she was watching me.
“Wait here,” she said, finally.
She got up and a few seconds later, I heard the stairs creaking with her soft steps. I waited, the weight on my chest still painfully heavy. I was calm, and okay, I could admit the bridge jumping stunt had probably been reckless and stupid. And maybe it was good that my brothers had stopped me.
But I still felt awful.
Gram came back with a stack of light blue books in her arms. She set them on the table in front of me. They were all the same size, about as big as one of my old school binders. All the same faded blue. The top one said Baby Book on the cover.
“What are these?”
“These are the baby books your mom made for each of you.” She took the top one and pushed the rest to the side, then laid it in front of me. “This one was for Asher.”
I flipped through the pages. She’d filled out a lot of it, writing in milestones. Weights, firsts, notable moments in his first year of life. She’d tucked a plastic bag with a lock of hair from his first haircut, photos of his first steps, and more from his birthday party when he turned one.
“Evan’s is a little more sparse,” Gram said, shifting Asher’s book out of the way. “That tends to happen with the second child.” She turned a few pages to show me, then moved it so she could set the next two side by side. “The twins, well, I think she had her hands full simply surviving by that point. She wrote a few things down, but understandably, there’s not much here.”
“Mine must blank, then.”
Without replying, she moved Levi and Logan’s baby books to the side and pushed mine in front of me. “Why don’t you have a look and see?”
I flipped to the first page and Mom had written my full name—Gavin Matthew Bailey—and my date of birth. I was totally expecting the rest of it to be blank, but when I turned the page, there was more. In fact, I kept flipping, and mine was filled out every bit as much as Asher’s.
There were photos and little handwritten notes. Milestones and the dates. She’d used stickers and different colored pens—red, blue, purple, yellow. Everything, from my first bath to my first steps to me with cake all over my face on my first birthday, was included.
“You were a surprise,” Gram said as I gazed at the pages. “They didn’t think they’d have any more babies after the twins. And I won’t lie and tell you they weren’t worried. They were. They had their hands full with four, and they had moments where they wondered if they could handle five. And then you were born and your parents could not have been more in love with you.”
I looked away again because now she really was going to make me cry.
“A baby book doesn’t measure her love for her children. She didn’t neglect the twins’ books because she loved them any less than you or Asher. But d
on’t you doubt for one second that they wanted you. You fit into their family—into our family—like you were always meant to be. Because you were. They loved you with everything they had, and they wouldn’t have given you up for anything.”
I turned to the last page, and tucked inside was a loose photo of me and my parents—just the three of us. I was in Dad’s arms, wearing nothing but a diaper, and Mom was standing next to him, holding one of my hands. There were balloons in the background and I had chocolate cake on my face, so it was probably my first birthday.
A few tears broke free and I let them fall without shame. Because damn it, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they’d died and left us behind. That we’d had to grow up without them. That they’d missed it.
But as I looked at this picture, I realized something else. Gram was right. They’d loved me. You could see it in their faces. They didn’t look like a couple who were frazzled, at the end of their rope trying to survive their youngest child’s babyhood. They looked like young parents enjoying their baby’s first birthday. And something about that meant more to me than I knew how to express.
And I also realized I loved them right back.
They did still live inside me. Even though I couldn’t remember them, they were right here. And they had been all along.
Nodding slowly, I set the photo down. “Thanks, Gram.”
“Now you need to decide what you’re going to do with your fear.”
I hesitated for a long moment, thinking about that. About what I was really afraid of. I was scared of losing Skylar, and that fear had made me irrational.
Except…
“I really do want to marry her,” I said aloud, without really meaning to.
Gram didn’t reply, just raised her eyebrows with a little smile.
“I don’t want to marry her just because I’m afraid. I want to marry her because I’m in love with her. She’s it for me. I literally can’t imagine my life without her.”
She nodded along as I babbled.
“Help me out here, Gram, what would Dad have done? I know I want to be with her, but she isn’t ready, and that’s okay, I’ll wait. I’ll give her as long as she needs. But I screwed this up pretty badly and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Rushing In: A Small Town Family Romance Page 31