“I know, Dad. I love you too.”
“Here’s something you don’t know. In the seventies, before I met your mother, I went in big for the drug scene. You name it, I tried it at least once. Turned my body into a chemical factory. The only drug I steered clear of was heroin. I was reckless, but not a complete idiot. Anyway, I fell hard for a girl who liked smoking pot and sleeping with my friends. Peace, love, and rock and roll—that girl went in big for spreading the love around. Luckily, she didn’t give me the run of unspeakable diseases.”
“You . . . what?” Rae’s jaw fell open.
Never before had they discussed his youthful indiscretions. Her introverted, well-read father was once a wild child?
In an act of contrition, Connor lifted his palms. “Back then, I was just plain stupid.” A casual gesture, but she saw the price he paid in sharing deeply held secrets. “I thought if I pretended my girlfriend was faithful, eventually I’d be right. There’s nothing more destructive than self-delusion. When she dumped me, it felt like the world ending.”
“But you got over her,” Rae supplied, wishing he’d end the conversation.
“When your mother came on the scene, she knew how to fix everything. Hester screwed my head on straight. Gave my life purpose and taught me how to believe in myself. Those years were special. They were even better once we brought you into the world. We were so busy caring for the farm, and then your mother’s art career took off—that close to our forties, we weren’t sure she’d get pregnant.” Her father hesitated. “You were a little bitty thing when Grandma Langdon had a stroke. Do you remember your grandparents?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t.”
“The stroke happened the same month we got your grandfather’s diagnosis. Colon cancer, too far advanced for medical intervention. I didn’t understand loss—the genuine article that drops you to your knees—until my parents died. Two deaths in one season. The point being, I was middle-aged when they passed. I was strong enough to take it.”
Rae shut her eyes. Two deaths. Her losses, marked by different seasons. The last, too great to bear.
“I’m strong too,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You’re my child, Rae. I’d protect you from life’s hardships if I could. Don’t let grief make you old before you really start living.”
At two o’clock, Yuna sent a text. She was on her way over.
Rae had just hung up with her aunt. After she declined the invitation to visit Miami, Gracie didn’t press. She did extract Rae’s promise to call if she needed to talk.
The well-meaning overture left Rae more unsettled. Mostly because she didn’t know what to make of her father’s impassioned speech. Joining him in the living room, she stared unseeing at the TV. His advice had rattled her. Growing old quickly didn’t appeal. Who wanted that? Most days, Rae focused on staying numb. Or she let her temper at life’s irritations mask the unpredictable waves of acute sorrow.
Hope and expectation were absent from her life. Did the loss of those virtuous emotions mean she was growing old? Not in a measurable, physical way, but on a deeper level? There was no simple way to regain the verve for life.
A rap sounded at the door.
Yuna appeared in the foyer with her daughter. Shaking the snow from her hair, she shrugged out of her coat. Kameko slipped past, trailing snow into the living room. The five-year-old plopped to the ground and tugged off her boots.
Yuna hung up her coat. “This is pathetic.” Approaching, she glanced at the TV. “You’re both in front of the tube on a beautiful Saturday? Go outside and build a snowman!”
Connor popped a potato chip into his mouth. “Kameko, take your mother home. She wants to build a snowman.” After his speech in the kitchen, he’d made off with the bag of chips.
“Mommy can’t play outside. She has to go to work.”
“That’s right, sweetheart. We can’t stay long.” Yuna snatched the bag. “Pop quiz, Connor. What were your cholesterol numbers on your last blood test?”
“None of your business.”
“His numbers weren’t great,” Rae supplied. She began rising from the couch. Kameko stepped before her, thwarting the movement.
“I’m hot, Auntie Rae.”
A puffy snowsuit encased the pipsqueak. She resembled a helium balloon. Unzipping the garment, Rae helped her take a dainty step out.
Connor glared at Yuna. “Mind handing back my chips?”