She just annihilated me.
I begin a slow walk in the direction of the cabin as my phone buzzes in my hand.
Evie: What happened?
I’ve been flinging mini grenade truth bombs hoping to get through to her, and in turn, she dropped a fucking atom bomb on me. For a minute there, I thought I was making progress, and she pushed back harder than she has since I’ve been here.
Evie: That is progress.
I don’t think you would see it that way if you were there.
Evie: She’s fighting it.
Even if I get a chance to talk to her, I don’t know if it will make a difference at all.
Evie: It will.
You seem so sure.
Evie: I am. Paul said to tell you Merry Christmas and hang in there.
Tell him I’m sorry I keep bothering you.
Evie: Don’t you dare. I’m here for you. We both are.
Thank you.
Evie: Stick to the plan. You’ve come this far already. See it through, Eli.
I will. I am.
Evie: Proud of you.
Tucking my phone away, I clasp my hands behind my head, inhaling deeply as I search the sky for answers. Even if she’s lashing out due to old hurts, I can’t at all blame her. If my presence here has resurrected old feelings back, front, and center for her, I’m dealing with the same issue—though my feelings are entirely different. While her recollections seem to be fueling her aversion—and need for space from me—mine has me wanting to get closer, so much closer.
Restarting my run toward the cabin, I sift to the memory of our last minutes together and pick up speed, her grief-stricken face and words coming in crystal clear.
“Just tell me why I’m not enough for you. Why wasn’t I enough?”
The day my parents died was the worst day of my life. The day Whitney left me remains a close second. Hindsight cripples me as I run until every muscle in my body aches, the throbbing in my chest the worst of it.
Exhaustion overwhelms me as I reach the steep driveway leading up to the cabin, utterly clueless as to how to proceed. Stupidly, I hoped for some sort of redemption where there is none, and the truth I have for her isn’t enough.
Ruby steps out onto the front porch just as I make it up the steps.
“Hey, handsome. You were gone for some time. I was getting worried.”
I’m able to muster a smile and pat my stomach. “No need to worry, I’ve got a built-in GPS, and you’ve been giving me a lot to burn off.” Evident concern is etched in her features as she studies me.
“Do you have any plans right now?”
“None that I can think of.”
“Great. Grab yourself a hot shower and meet me in the kitchen.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“A dash of…what’s that?” She scrutinizes the faded recipe card for her mother’s chocolate icebox cake.
“Vanilla,” I tell her as she pulls a teaspoon from the drawer, measures it, and I fold it into the melted chocolate as instructed.
“Now, the water is the trickiest part. When I add it, you give it a good stir and don’t stop. Ready?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, looking her profile over. Whitney’s likeness to her is uncanny.
“She’s the spitting image of me, isn’t she?” She says, without so much as looking up while she adds the first tablespoon of water.
“She is.”
Allen stalks into the kitchen, mumbling before opening a nearby drawer, and Ruby diverts her attention to him. “Whatcha need, honey?”
“Pliers,” he says, sorting aggressively.
“You just had them.”
“I don’t remember where I put them down.”
“Obviously, but they sure aren’t going to be where you retrieved them in the first place.”
“I’m just checking.”
“You’re making a racket. Check somewhere else.” She glances over at me before rolling amused eyes upward. “Keep stirring, or it’s going to harden too much.” I nod as she turns to Allen, who’s still noisily sorting through the drawers. “You’re not going to find them in that drawer either, husband dearest. Retrace your steps.”
“Found them, Gramps!” Gracie calls from the living room as Allen cuts eyes at Ruby before stalking out of the kitchen. She watches his retreat with lighthearted annoyance. “It so pointless to bicker at this stage. Neither of us are going to change a damned thing.”
“That’s some feat, though—forty years.”
“It is,” she adds the last tablespoon of water as I stir. “I almost divorced him once. The kids have no idea.”