by Helm, Nicole
“She schemed with her friend Cathy. So, that’s a conversation you might want to have with Cathy’s parents.”
Pen nodded. The weight of parenthood never got lighter. It just shifted into different hard things she never quite saw coming. “She’s okay,” Pen said, more to herself than for any other reason.
“She is. We talked a little. She…” Ethan cleared his throat. “She was mostly mad at me. Catching her fighting with Brynn this morning then she… Well, she overheard some things this morning.”
It was wrong to be relieved Addie’s issues were geared more toward Ethan than her, than living on the farm, but boy was she.
“I should have been more careful.”
“Pen—”
“Thank you,” she said, cutting him off. “For finding her. I can’t… Thank you.”
He didn’t say anything, although the way he looked at her didn’t make any sense. “You don’t have to. I’ll always help.”
Which seemed to mean I’ll always stay right here, within touching distance but just out of reach. She didn’t have the energy to fight that now. She’d deal with Ethan…well, not tomorrow since he never came over on Christmas. The day after. It’d give her time to build up her fight again.
She turned back to the house. She had to face Addie without tears and without yelling. She had to be calm. She had to get to the bottom of this.
She climbed the stairs, and when she opened the door to her room, Addie was sitting in the middle of Pen’s bed staring out the window, the Henry teddy bear in her lap.
“What you did today was incredibly dangerous, and you’re so lucky nothing bad happened to you. I know Last Stand is safe, but that was irresponsible. Your father taught you much better than that.”
“I miss him.”
Pen’s heart cracked. She held on to her control as best she could, but the chances of getting through this without crying were slim. “I do too. I think we always will. There’s nothing wrong about missing someone. It means you loved them very much. Which means…” She couldn’t tell her daughter whose father had been shot in the line of duty that she was lucky. No matter how good love was, losing someone didn’t make having them lucky. “It’s okay to be sad. You deserve to be sad sometimes.”
“Sometimes when I miss him, I just want to be mad. And mean.”
“Maybe we should find a counselor here like we had back in San Antonio. Someone you can talk to and—”
“Mom, no. I don’t want to. It’s weird to talk to someone I don’t know. I don’t like it. I… Please, Mom. I promise. I’ll talk. I just…don’t always want to talk to you. But not a doctor. I promise to talk to Grandpa or…Aunt Sadie. Please.”
“Of course. They’re your family. But I need your word. Your promise that you’ll do that. If anything even remotely like this happens ever again, not only will you be going to therapy, you will have so many extra chores as well. Therapy is to help you. Chores are a punishment.”
Addie nodded. “I promise.” She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. “Mom, I’m sorry I scared you. I wasn’t thinking about you.”
“I know.” Pen thought it was quite the feat Addie understood and acknowledged that. “Try to remember we all love you and want the best for you. Always. No matter what. And if it doesn’t feel that way, you only have to tell us. I can’t give you everything you want, Addie. Sometimes what we want isn’t possible, or isn’t what we need, but I’m always doing my best for you and your sisters.”
“Brynn wants you to get married again, and I… I wouldn’t mind. Depending. But it made me miss Dad. Brynn and Daisy…they don’t remember him like I do. They don’t…”
“But I do.” The first tear slid over and Pen slid onto her bed next to Addie. “And I’m right here.”
“I don’t want to make you sad.”
“If you’re sad, it’s okay to make me sad. We’ll be sad together. And if we’re sad together, we can get back to being happy. Because we have each other.”
Addie seemed to take that on board. But then she changed the subject altogether. “Do you love Ethan?”
“Huh?”
“I asked him if he loved you.”
Pen opened her mouth, but the last thing she was going to do was ask her twelve-year-old what he’d said.
“He said he did. And he said he’s been afraid.” Addie frowned. “I think he needs…” She seemed to struggle to come up with the words, and Pen couldn’t blame her. “I guess he just needs us.”
“I think so,” Pen said, her throat tightening all over again.
“We’ll need to talk to him then,” Addie said with all the seriousness of an adult who knew just what to do. “So he can be happy too. When he’s done being sad.”
“Yes, we’ll talk to him. But not tonight. You need sleep.”
“I could help with Santa. I feel bad that I… I could help.”
Pen opened her mouth to argue, but she realized Addie had made the suggestion both as peace offering but also because she wanted to. So, Pen nodded. “All right. But don’t think you’re getting off that easy. The remainder of your winter break you are on goat poop duty.”
Addie’s face fell into disgust and horror. “But—”
“That’s just the beginning, young lady. You ran away. You could have…” She couldn’t bear to tell Addie all the horrible scenarios that had gone through her mind while she’d been frantically searching. “The punishment is big. And smelly.”
Addie grumbled, but Pen managed a smile. Things would be okay. Being the mother of this girl was never going to be easy, but it was amazing.
*
Ethan got off work, ran through the shower, and got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He didn’t work again until evening. Which meant he had all day to do his usual grave visiting.
Except he’d changed his plans last night after dropping Addie off.
Usually he only went and put flowers on Amy’s grave. He never said anything, aloud or in his head. He just placed the flowers on her grave, cleaned up around if it needed it, and moved on.
It felt like a penance, not a visit. He’d always preferred that. Because penance he could control. Grief…not so much.
Which meant something had to change. Not with his sister, because as much as he’d loved her, she hadn’t been an integral part of his life. She’d been the cautionary tale, the catalyst.
But Susannah had been his mother, in every way that counted. And he hadn’t been to her grave since the funeral.
Everything inside of him rebelled against doing so this morning. He’d always listened to that. Called it his gut feeling.
But he couldn’t stop turning over Addie’s runaway attempt in his mind. What if she’d gone through with it? What if something had happened to her? And all because she was running away from feelings everyone around her would understand, would listen to.
He had all those same people. People who loved him and wanted the best for him. Who didn’t want him on the periphery. They’d let him be because he hadn’t been honest, but Pen had seen through it.
He had to own up to that.
So he drove to the cemetery in the dark Christmas morning. He parked in the lot, preferring to walk to the site rather than drive through. He noted two odd shadows in the distance near Susannah’s grave. He stopped abruptly as he realized the two shadows were men. Both turned to face him.
“You don’t usually come here,” Bracken offered by way of greeting.
“No, I don’t,” Ethan replied, forcing himself to take the remaining steps to Colt and Bracken. And Susannah. “Do you?”
“Colt and I always do Christmas morning. We used to invite you, but you always said no. Usually come out a little later in the day. You know, daylight and not freezing, but Colt wanted to be back to the farm for Santa.” Bracken leaned forward as if letting Ethan in on a secret. “Getting kid ideas.”
“I… I haven’t been here since the funeral.”
Bracken and Colt exchanged a look.
It was dark and cold, but here were his brothers if not by blood by everything else. His brothers, who he could talk to. Even about feelings.
Colt handed him a couple flowers from the bunch in his hand and all three of them kneeled to lay them at the base of the gravestone.
Ethan looked at that smooth stone with Susannah’s name carved on it, dates underneath. He’d had to accept she was gone—there was no pretending she wasn’t. But he hadn’t let himself feel the pain of that without trying to push it into something else.
“So.” Colt rocked back on his heels. “This mean what it should mean?”
Ethan straightened. “What should it mean?”
“That you’re going to finally live.”
“I’ve been living just fine,” he grumbled, even knowing it was a lie. Even knowing he’d come here to stop lying. But Rome wasn’t built in a day and he had a hell of a lot of building to do.
“There’s a difference between surviving and living, Ethan.” Colt gave Bracken a pointed look as if to say, for you too, buddy. “Living can be a little harder, but it’s always a hell of a lot sweeter. Takes a bit of courage though. And usually a Martin woman to knock some sense into you.”
“If I recall, my fist also knocked some sense into you.”
Colt laughed at the memory of their fight when Colt had been trying to run away—from the farm, from Sadie and Fritz. From everything.
“I started that, though. You never would have punched first.”
No. And he’d never run away. He’d just always do the thing that didn’t require action, didn’t require feeling. He looked at Susannah’s name. “She had more courage than anyone I’ve ever known. Never backed down. That should have been what I internalized. How to be brave, like her. Instead I… I’ve kept myself separate.”
“It took me a long time to believe in what she saw in me.” Colt was silent for a few minutes. “Maybe three morons like us need a little love before we can be brave.”
“Morons like you two,” Bracken replied grimly. “I’ll stay out of your insanity, thank you.”
“Except I’m marrying Sadie. Ethan’s going to grovel to Pen.” Colt looked at Bracken and grinned. “Who’s that leave you?”
Bracken lifted a middle finger, but didn’t say anything else.
“I never said I was going to grovel,” Ethan finally said. He was going to…talk. They were going to have a conversation about feelings, as horrible as that sounded. He wasn’t going to beg.
Hopefully.
“Boy, you better,” Colt said slapping him on the back.
“You just sounded exactly like Fritz,” Bracken said with a mock shudder. “That’s creepy.”
“Better than sounding like my old man.”
“No,” Ethan said, still staring at Susannah’s name. “Fritz is our old man. Susannah was our mother. They’re our real parents.” Because Fritz and Susannah had always given them what parents were supposed to. Whatever each of their biological parents might have done to scar them, Fritz and Susannah had done what they could to heal those scars.
“Damn right.”
Bracken nodded in agreement.
“It’s hard to miss her when we didn’t have her long enough.” He knew his voice came out scratchy, and that the bald emotion didn’t make any of them comfortable. But they still stood here. Together. Listening.
“Long enough to matter, though,” Colt replied, his voice raspy too.
Ethan and Bracken nodded in unison, then they took an unplanned collective breath together. Together in front of their mother, who’d given them everything they’d needed.
Now Ethan had to be brave enough to do something with it.
“You ready?” Colt asked.
Ethan nodded and they turned away from Susannah’s grave together. Because they were family, because of her.
“So, you figured out how to grovel yet?” Bracken asked as they reached where Colt had parked his truck.
“Just one part.”
“What’s that?” Colt asked.
“Show up for Christmas.”
“That’ll be a first,” Bracken said.
Ethan nodded. “Yeah. A lot of firsts.”
Chapter Sixteen
Pen yawned as she peeked into the living room to make sure everything was as she’d left it. It was still dark out, but she always set her alarm to wake up before the girls so she could see their faces.
But there weren’t just presents under the colorful tree. No, Ethan was crouched there, putting new presents in with the others.
For a moment she thought to convince herself it was a dream. She’d barely slept after all the worry over Addie. She was hallucinating.
But he stood slowly, turning to face her.
Her heart seemed to jump into her throat, hammer there instead of her chest. She couldn’t get her hopes up and think this meant something. But it was Christmas and he was here.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding as shaken as she felt.
“I had some presents to put under the tree.”
“That isn’t what I meant and you know it.” Irritation steadied her. “You’re here. On Christmas.”
“I’m here. On Christmas.”
She wanted to say something. Anything. But all she could do was stand there and stare at him in the dim room. It was that eerie quiet before a storm of noise and activity. Dawn was just beginning to creep into the windows and the white lights on the tree made Ethan glow.
But he didn’t say anything, and she didn’t know what else to say to him. She’d said it all. Over and over again. She couldn’t make him understand. He had to want to.
“I went to Susannah’s grave this morning.”
“With Colt and Bracken?”
He shook his head. “No. I mean, they were there, but I didn’t know they would be.”
She stared at him in confusion. “They always go. I thought…” How silly she’d been to think he’d do something that required him to face his feelings.
“I never go. I’d refused so much they stopped asking and I forgot they even did it. My usual Christmas tradition aside from work is go to my sister’s grave and beat myself up over all the ways I’ve failed.”
“That doesn’t sound very festive.”
“No, but it’s rather satisfying. Because it ignores grief. It ignores sadness and turns it into self-pity, but the kind you get to feel self-righteous about.”
“I might know a thing or two about that. Not the guilt thing, but the self-righteous thing.”
“Yeah. I figure that’s why you weren’t exactly…wrong yesterday.”
“You really need to work on your groveling.”
“I’m not…” He let out a sigh. “I don’t know how to grovel. I don’t know how to do any of this.”
“But you’re here.” She managed to smile at him. “On Christmas.”
“Yes. On Christmas.”
He smiled, and she didn’t know how to read it. It was sad, but not heavy. He seemed calm—quiet but not detached. She didn’t know how to read him and it was driving her a little insane.
“I went to Susannah’s grave because I hadn’t, and I figured I needed to. And maybe part of me was hoping I’d be fine and prove you wrong.”
“But you weren’t.”
“Colt and Brack were there and…” He shook his head. “They loved her too. They lost her too. We all did. We’re all trying to figure out how to maneuver it. You’ve been doing that. I didn’t want to. I still don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Susannah was the only person I’ve ever said I love you to. And it was too late. She was already gone when I finally said the words.”
She moved toward him but he held up a hand and she stopped on a dime. Maybe…this wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be.
“I didn’t want to hurt like that again. I didn’t ever want to hurt like that again. If you put a wall between yourself and it, you don’t have to… It isn’t devastating.”
Ethan nodded. “Colt asked me if I was ready to start living. I thought I was. I go to work. I help out here. I’m here and I wake up every morning—how is that not living?” He shook his head. “But I’ve been surviving, trying to sidestep all the ways life can knock you on your ass. Being alone is a pain I understand. It’s a pain I’m used to—since I was a kid. But I couldn’t seem to function through the pain of losing the first person I truly loved unreservedly. So, I thought I put it away, but I guess I put myself away. Regressed back to someone waiting for the world to fall apart and trying to avoid getting hurt by that.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure I know how to be something different, but I want to try. With you. And your girls. Well, with everyone, but you four in particular.”
What Pen really wanted to do was leap into his arms. To figure the rest out later. To hold on to try.
But she was an adult, with three kids. She had to be… She had to be sensible. “What about your father and all that stuff about him being a threat when he’s released?”
“As I sat there talking to Addie at the bus station, it struck me that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if I was in your life or not because I’d do anything, sacrifice anything, to keep you all safe. We’d all do that for each other. I knew that, but I had it all…twisted in my head. I needed to see… Well, I guess I needed a real reason to make it click.”
“A ‘you were right, Pen’ would go a long way here.”
His smile widened. He might have even chuckled. He also stepped toward her. “You were right, Pen.” He stopped right in front of her. So close. And when he touched her, it was featherlight, the backs of his fingers against her cheek. “I love you.”
She felt her heart stutter to a stop. He was so certain. So here. “I know.”
*
“You…” That was not exactly what Ethan had expected to hear the first time he said that to someone who was conscious and among the living. “You know?”
She grinned up at him. “Addie told me.”
He laughed, and it was strange. His heart hurt, but it was lighter than it had been. He was sad, but there was a happiness buoying that sadness up. “I’ve got my work cut out for me, don’t I?”