Falling for Home

by Jody Holford

  “How was the cabin?” Alex asked. Chuck set his beer down on the rail and shrugged. Alex opened the deck stripper and poured some into two paint trays.

  “It was good. Nice to relax. Caught a couple fish. Released them. You know what the cabin is like,” Chuck replied, opening the package of nylon brushes.

  “When did you get back?” Alex asked. He wanted to know if his dad would lie to him to his face. The thought of it made his stomach turn. Chuck met Alex’s eyes as he accepted the paint tray his son passed him.

  “I told you. Last night.”

  Alex held his stare, but Chuck didn’t flinch—didn’t shift his eyes or his weight. He looked Alex dead in the eye and lied. And that realization struck Alex harder than if Chuck had physically hit him. The air in his lungs was replaced by an unexpected fury.

  “Oh, right. You did say that. Must have forgot,” Alex said, his words clipped. He moved to one side of the deck, tray in hand, and began to brush the stain on the peeling strips of wood. They painted in silence on opposite sides of the deck. Alex felt the warmth of the day through his T-shirt as he tried to focus on covering all of the worn parts of the beams. Why would he lie? Slapping stain in wide strokes, he moved back on his knees to cover more ground.

  “You keep slopping that around, it’s not going to rinse off properly,” Chuck commented from a similar crouch on the other side. Alex said nothing and continued to apply it his way. He wasn’t good with games. He hated them.

  “Elliot saw you two nights ago. Said he waved to you, and you ignored him and rushed into your house,” Alex said, putting the brush down and turning so he faced his dad. His knees were aching in his crouch, but he stayed where he was, forearms resting on his jean-clad legs. Chuck’s mouth scrunched up, the only sign that he had heard Alex. Placing his brush down with exaggerated care, he rose and looked down at his son.

  There had been times growing up that Alex had hated his dad with a teen’s jaded view, but for as long as he could remember, Chuck had been straight with him. Or so he’d thought. Feeling like his legs were going to cramp into the position permanently and not liking the height difference, Alex rose to face his dad.

  “You got something to say?” Chuck asked.

  “I think I just said it.”

  “Parents don’t answer to their children. I’m entitled to have a life of my own,” Chuck said, his shoulders stiff and his eyes hard.

  “Having a life of your own includes lying to me?”

  “Lying and not giving you the details of my private life are two different things.”

  Alex shook his head. He walked to where he’d left his beer and took a long swallow.

  Slamming the bottle back onto the railing, he chose his words carefully.

  “I don’t see those two things differently if whatever is happening in your private life makes it necessary for you to lie to me,” Alex told him. Chuck looked out over Alex’s back lawn, recently trimmed and edged with trees. Alex pictured backyard BBQs with friends and family, which is what had gotten him started on the deck in the first place.

  “It’s nothing that concerns you. When I’m ready to talk about it, you’ll know,” Chuck said with less heat. His shoulders dropped a bit, and Alex had the quickest flash of recognition that his dad was older. He never saw him that way, but the look on his face right this minute showed his age, and Alex didn’t care for it.

  “Until then, you’ll just lie when it suits you,” Alex replied. He leaned back against the railing and shoved his hands into his pockets so he wasn’t tempted to toss his beer bottle against the side of the house.

  “Every now and again, you remind me so much of her. God, you’re stubborn. Just like she was. Once you think something, there’s no swaying you. Your way or no way.” Chuck pulled his keys from his pocket and tossed them lightly in his hand.

  “See, now, that’s funny. I’ve always appreciated how different you are from her. But right now, your parenting styles seem to match perfectly. Lying, evasion, and to complete the hat trick, I bet you’re going to leave,” Alex replied coldly. Anger skittered up his spine and made him want to lash out. What the hell is he hiding that is worth this fight? Chuck’s fist snapped tightly around his keys.

  “You’re right, I am. You need to get your head on straight, and if I stay any longer, I’m likely to smack it in the right direction. Not every person in your life is hiding some God-awful secret. Maybe everything isn’t about you,” Chuck said, his teeth clenched and his graying eyebrows drawn tight. “Wash this stain off before it dries, or you’re going to ruin this deck.”

  With that, he shoved past Alex into the house. A moment later, Alex heard the front door slam. That went well. Sighing heavily, Alex picked up the paint brushes, itching to hurl them far and wide, and took them inside to clean. He’d do the deck another day. He wasn’t feeling much like backyard BBQs or family get-togethers right now.

  “Hey dad. Can I come in?” Lucy asked, knocking lightly on her dad’s study door. He was sitting at his desk, grading papers. In his light grey cardigan with leather elbows, he looked every bit the college professor. His smile was warm and inviting, and his eyes focused on her the minute he heard her voice. She wondered how many of his students had crushes on him. Had he ever acted on any of them? She couldn’t imagine it, but then, she liked to keep her head nestled in the sand rather than face reality sometimes. Preferably the sand of another continent.

  “Of course you can. You don’t need to ask,” he said, leaning back in his leather chair. She moved into the room, lit by wide panes of glass and a gorgeous window seat like the one in Alex’s bedroom. From this spot, she could see the side of Alex’s house. Or would be able to if it hadn’t grown dark. She’d waited until her mom had gone to bed to talk to her dad.

  “You okay?” he asked, picking up his cup, which probably had some sort of herbal tea that her mother swore by.

  “I’m alright. I’m good, actually,” she replied honestly. She studied the wall of built-in bookshelves. They were filled with history and political science books, family photographs, and family albums. On one shelf, there was a collection of miniature items that Lucy had sent or given him. She picked up the gold Eiffel Tower replica, smiling because he still had it after all of this time. Lucy placed it down between the tiny bust of Shakespeare and the six-inch Statue of Liberty.

  “You still have all of these,” she remarked when he came to stand beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. She rested her head and wondered how it was that one person’s arm could provide such an anchor—a feeling of safety, stability.

  “I certainly do. For starters, I love them. I think every one of them is great,” he told her, picking up the palm-size blue crane that was the South African national bird. “But also, as you well know, I’m a bit of a sap when it comes to my girls. I think I have every Father’s Day card ever made by all three of you.”

  Lucy laughed, but it did nothing to ease the ache in her chest. Did he really feel no different toward her than the other girls? He’d never treated her differently, so why was it so hard to believe that?

  “Dad, are you and Mom okay financially?” she asked. She hadn’t meant to be so blunt. He looked surprised for a split second then dropped his hand from her shoulder and returned to where he’d left his tea.

  “Why are you asking?” he countered, picking up his mug.

  Because I checked mom’s book sales, or lack thereof. Because she’s had dismal releases for the last three books, and no one has mentioned it. Because she’s stopped doing book signings and author visits. Because Kate is going into the wrong career just to please you.

  “I’m just curious. I’m not a kid anymore. You can talk to me if you guys are in … a tough spot. I’ve always just put my paycheck in the bank, except what I needed to travel or live. But I’ve never needed much—“

  “Stop,” he said in a tone that left no other option. “I realize that you make a considerable amount of money. I’
m very proud of you for doing so well. But your mother and I have never needed help taking care of our family. I’m not sure why you think we do, but I can assure you, we are just fine.”

  “I wasn’t trying to insult you, dad,” she said, wishing she had pockets so she could shove her hands into them. He set his mug down, and by the time he walked over to her and pulled her into a hug, his face had softened.

  “I know, sweetheart. There’s nothing for you to worry about. We manage just fine when you’re not here, and the fact that you’re home doesn’t change that,” he replied.

  Lucy frowned, easing out of the hug. “It’s good to know that everyone does perfectly well when I’m not here. Perhaps I should go so I stop stirring things up and trying to change things.” He hadn’t meant anything by it, but she was tired of feeling like she had to defend herself. She started to walk out of the study.

  “Lucy Marie Aarons. You come back here this minute,” her father said. She would have laughed when she turned around, but the expression on his face was not one of humor. She stayed where she was but kept her eyes level with his. He stepped closer to her, so that her space was filled with the smell of lemon tea and Old Spice.

  “We are fine when you’re not here because we have no other choice, and I am not talking about finances. When you have a child that wants to roam the world, you have no choice but to accept it,” he said, his tone both stern and wistful.

  “Dad,” she interrupted.

  “I am not done. Make no mistake, we are fine when you aren’t here, but we are better when you are. All I meant was that you do not have to take it on your shoulders to come home and try to fix everyone’s problems,” he explained. Lucy’s heart cracked when she realized that he had come as close to confessing that they were having problems as he ever would.

  “But I want to. It’s what you guys do for each other. It’s what families do. If you guys are having trouble, I want to help. Let me help. Let me be part of this family the way everyone else is,” she pleaded, her voice wavering. She put her hand on his arm.

  “You are part of this family, Lucy. But remember, families also back off when someone asks them to. So unless you want to start answering some questions about your relationship with Alex, I’d quit while you’re ahead,” he said, but this time he smiled. He turned her gently, and they walked to the kitchen.

  “That’s totally different,” she said.

  “Not from my perspective. Families confide in each other is what you’re saying, right? How about confiding to your dear old dad what your intentions with Alex are,” Mark said and then laughed at the look on Lucy’s face.

  “Okay. You don’t want my help? Fine. I’m going to bed,” Lucy said. She backed away from her dad as he plugged in the kettle.

  “To your own bed?” he asked.

  Every inch of her body turned red with embarrassment. Her parents didn’t say much about her not spending nights in her room. Which, she realized, was a blessing.

  “Goodnight, dad.”

  “Goodnight, dear. Let me know if you want to talk about anything,” he said.

  Lucy groaned audibly and took the stairs two at a time. How did he turn that around so quickly? In her room, she closed her bedroom door quietly and changed into pajamas. No reason to tell her dad that Alex was working through some issues with his own dad tonight. She was an adult—she didn’t need to talk about her relationship. And they don’t need to talk about their personal issues. Maybe some boundaries were a healthy thing. But Lucy didn’t like the feeling that the boundaries for her were more visible than for her sisters. Like they kept her back just a little further. Obviously, Kate knew that they were having financial difficulties. As she pulled back the covers, she thought that Char probably knew as well. They didn’t want to tell Lucy anything because they figured she’d be off on another trip soon. She plumped her pillow, wishing she were in Alex’s bed, and lay down with a sigh. Her family was just going to have to get used to her sticking around. To her meddling. To her being a part of the good and the bad. If Lucy was beginning to deal with the idea that she might be staying —for good rather than for now—then they would just have to do the same.

  Chapter 17

  Lucy grabbed an apple from the dish on the table as her mom came into the kitchen. Julie was dressed in a pink robe and fuzzy slippers, her hair piled on her head and her eyes still sleepy.

  “Hi. You’re up early,” Julie said, yawning and heading straight for the coffee pot.

  “Yes. I’m setting up for some family photos I agreed to do. You remember Ginny?”

  “Mmhmm. Sweet girl. She’s just about due, isn’t she?” Julie asked.

  “Yes, so I want to get some pregnancy shots before she pops,” Lucy said, taking another bite.

  “Is that all you’re having for breakfast?” Julie asked, grabbing two coffee cups from the cupboard.

  “Yes, mom,” Lucy said in a monotone voice.

  “Perhaps you should worry more about having a healthy breakfast than whether or not your mom and dad are doing okay,” Julie suggested, her eyes more alert. Lucy felt a moment of awkwardness. She hadn’t thought of her dad going right to her mom.

  “Geez. You guys tell each other everything?”

  “Yes. It’s called marriage, honey,” Julie said with a smile.

  Don’t say it. Don’t ask. It’s in the past, and it doesn’t matter. Let it go. Trying to wrangle her thoughts, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “I’ll eat more after the shoot. I’m fine and I’m also allowed to worry about and care about my parents,” Lucy replied, grabbing the milk for her mom’s coffee.

  “Thank you,” Julie said, taking the carton. “But we’re fine.”

  “So I’ve heard. But, if you’re willing to at least listen to me, I do have some ideas for book promotion,” Lucy said slowly. Julie looked at her and started to protest.

  “It doesn’t involve leaving the house. I know that … isn’t your favorite thing. It’s all things you can do from home. Are you on Twitter?” Lucy asked. Julie’s features went from irritated to relaxed to confused in a split second.

  “The bird thing?”

  That answered that. Lucy laughed, kissed her mom’s cheek, and picked up her purse and her camera bag.

  “Yes. I’ll explain later. It’s painless. I promise. Love you,” Lucy said as she walked out of the kitchen.

  She walked across the lawn and realized that with all of the time she was spending with Alex, she hadn’t had to knock on his door in a while. She hoped he was up. She quietly checked the knob first, but Mr. Safety First had it locked up tight. She rapped three times and waited. When he answered the door in low-slung lounge pants, a sleepy scowl on his face, and his hair at odd angles, she felt such a powerful rush of love, she questioned her own sanity.

  “You don’t have to knock,” he grumbled, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his chin. He walked away, leaving her to shut the door and follow after him.

  “I do when it’s locked, Mr. Safety,” she said, still smiling at the sight of him.

  “I’ll get you a key,” he said as he went for the coffee beans in the freezer. Lucy’s heart flipped over in her chest. Alex stopped with his hand on the freezer door and looked at her, his eyes widening a little. “If you want. You don’t have to have one. I could just leave the door unlocked.”

  Just like that, her heartbeat evened out. He knew what to say, and his ability to say the right thing calmed the panic inside of her.

  “That doesn’t sound very safe,” she said, pretending to consider it as she unloaded her purse and camera onto his counter. She turned to face him. “I’ll take the key,” she said quietly.

  His eyes lit up in slow degrees like his smile, one notch at a time, as he realized what she’d said—what she’d agreed to. The panic was pushed aside by another unexpected spurt of “this feels right.” He kissed her forehead before going to grind the beans.

  As the grinder growled and churned, Lucy too
k a look at the photos that Alex had laid out on his table. He really needed a bigger table for this room. She picked up one and saw the painted words and pictures on the side of the elementary school. Another had the damage that had been done to his truck. There were over a dozen photos scattered across the surface. Each one had a bright red circle drawn in sharpie. The smell of coffee filled the air, but she didn’t feel like a cup. Looking over, she saw Alex pouring water into the machine.

  “It’s an odd symbol for a tagger, don’t you think?” she asked. He looked her way, pressed the on switch, and came over to look.

  “I don’t know. I can’t figure out if it’s a signature or what. Those two curves there could be an M.”

  He pointed to the spot, and she could see why he would say that, but it wasn’t what she saw. She took her phone out of her purse and pulled up Google.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, looking over her shoulder.

  “Checking something,” she answered. She typed in “symbol for loyalty.” The search turned back hundreds of hits, so she switched to images and scrolled through until she found one that matched the circles in all of the pictures.

  “Son of a bitch. How did you recognize that?” he asked, taking her phone from her hand and looking closer.

  “A friend of mine has a tattoo of this symbol. Only inside of the heart, she put her boyfriend’s name. Right before he broke up with her,” Lucy said.

  “Loyalty. What the hell? What does loyalty have to do with defacing property?”

  “I don’t know, but clearly the symbol is meaningful to whoever it is,” Lucy said. He looked at her and nodded. She could see his mind at work in the steady set of his jaw and his eyes, now awake and sharp, as he looked through the other photos and held her phone up against them.

  “Uh, I kind of have to go,” she said, laughing at his sudden intensity.

  “Okay,” he said, kissing her absently.