You know the land that I took you to see right on the lake? The one with the red barn and all those rows of fruit trees? When the timing is right, I’m going to build a big house on that plot, and we are going to be happy there. I see it in my mind’s eye, Champ—me and you sitting on the dock with fishing poles in our hands.
Can you see it too?
You hold that picture in your mind.
Between now and then, please trust me. And most importantly, please trust your own wise and tender heart. Listen to that part of yourself. It will never lead you astray.
We have so many years ahead of us, Champ. Years to live and laugh and learn all sorts of lessons, good and bad and everything in between. And when you have questions or need guidance, I will be there.
I will always be there.
I love you with all of my heart,
Dad
I let out a strangled gasp of air, hot tears burning my eyes as I sat, reeling.
He hadn’t left without saying goodbye. He’d written to me, only I’d never known.
My dad had been leaving for a short time, most likely to get Alyssa and Archer to a safe location until both divorces were filed and hot tempers flared and cooled.
He’d been leaving temporarily in an effort to protect them because he’d been in love.
I’d never understood the lengths a man would be moved to go to for a woman he loved. Because I’d never felt that depth of feeling. I did now though.
The world tilted, everything I’d ever thought to be true turning on its side.
Yes, my father had been in love. He’d loved me too though. I would never leave you behind.
I looked up, staring unseeing at the old red barn, a ray of sunlight streaming through the clouds.
Lose it all, or lose it all.
And suddenly, in an instant, I knew what I had to do.
Fear trembled through me. Fear—and a sense of rightness unlike I’d ever known.
Trust your own wise and tender heart.
I’m going to, Dad.
I turned the key in the ignition. First though, I had a few stops to make. The tires crunched on the wet gravel as I turned, heading toward the road that led out of town.
***
My mother adjusted the bags in her hand, digging in her purse for what must be her keys as I stepped toward her. It was barely ten a.m. and she’d already been out shopping.
She startled slightly, blowing out a breath when she saw it was me.
“Travis. You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”
I held up the envelope containing the letter from my dad. Her brows knitted as she, again, adjusted the shopping bags in her hands. “What is—” I saw when understanding dawned. “Oh, I see.” She gave her shoulders a small shake, stepping toward her door. But I’d also noticed that her face had suddenly lost some color beneath the heavy makeup.
She flicked open her lock, stepping inside, and I followed her. “You kept it from me,” I said. I’d driven the whole way without considering what I’d say to her, so many thoughts and emotions running rampant through me that I had no room left to plan for anything. I only wanted to know why.
She tossed the bags onto the couch, facing me. She’d regained her composure. It’d only taken a moment. “It wouldn’t have done you any good, Travis. It would have only poured salt in the wound. You were seven years old. Later, I forgot it even existed.”
I shook my head in disbelief that anyone could be so incredibly, blindly self-absorbed. “It would have meant everything to me,” I choked. “You didn’t keep it from me because you thought I was too young to understand. And you didn’t forget about it. You wanted me to carry the same bitterness toward him you did because it worked for you. He left you. He couldn’t stand your lies and manipulation. But he didn’t leave me. He never left me. And all my life…all my life, I’ve carried the grief that came from thinking he did.”
She fiddled with her bracelets, two spots of color appearing on her cheeks as her eyes narrowed. She was gathering her anger. And her anger was a shield, I supposed, but it also shot daggers. It was meant to protect…and to wound. And I had never been exempt from it. What happened to you? I wanted to ask. But it didn’t matter. She was never going to change. She’d had opportunities to become better—to reinvent herself—and she’d never taken them. “He didn’t even want you!” Her words fired out. “You should have seen his face when I told him I was pregnant! It was like someone had punched him square in the gut.”
“Because you tricked him into it!” I yelled, and drew satisfaction from her flinch. I knew what it was like to be strapped to this woman, so I didn’t have to wonder how he’d felt. He’d made mistakes too, but he’d tried to do the honorable thing. And I wasn’t going to let my selfish mother convince me that, though I was unplanned, he didn’t love me. My heart told me differently. I’d felt his love. And believing he’d loved me and then left anyway had created a deep pit of devastation inside, one I’d carried since I was a child. I wasn’t going to carry it any longer. I took a deep, cleansing breath, blowing out the anger, the resentment. I wasn’t going to hold on to that either and risk turning into her. “I burned those amendments you gave me,” I said. Except one. But I wasn’t going to tell her that.
Her eyes widened, lips twisting. “You did what? My God! I thought I could trust you by giving you the originals! Do you know what you’ve lost? Do you even know?”
“No, you’re the one who lost, Mom.” I took her in one final time. “If you’d loved me at all, you would have given me this letter,” I said, holding it up again. “You were so unwilling to let go of trying to control everything and everyone, that you lost. You lost it all. Including me.”
And then I turned and walked away.
As the road back to Pelion—back home—stretched before me, her words echoed.
I thought I could trust you, she’d said.
You can’t, I thought.
But maybe I can finally start trusting myself.
***
I made a few other quick stops, notably one to the firehouse, where I had some explaining to do and a favor to ask, and then I headed home.
It was strange being in my house again, surrounded by all the things that felt both familiar and not. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Not the way the Yellow Trellis Inn had, that house full of misfits and laughter. Affection and even love.
And, it went without saying, plenty of hooch.
I took a seat at my dining table, pushing a letter from my landlady aside. I’d deal with that later. My computer sat in front of me, and for a few minutes I simply stared out the window at the trees that blocked the lake beyond. There wasn’t a clear lake view from here, but I could see tiny sparkles of blue through the feathery branches and feel the peace that the water brought. How many countless times had that lake comforted me? Too many to count. How many times had the people in this community comforted me in one way or another? Far too many to count.
I thought about what Burt had told me about Betty and about her lost words. I thought about how they completed each other, each providing what the other was missing.
I thought about Haven, and about Easton too.
I thought about how they were nomads, searching for a home.