Chapter 27
The Bombs Explode
Jules
Shit. Shit. Shitty shit, shit. My parents, my mom and dad, were standing in Ivy and Jake’s kitchen.
What world was I living in? Sure, Lou and Verdell were surprising, but at least they lived in Highland Falls.
The two of them showing up for brunch wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. But my parents?
My brain whirled as I contemplated where in the States I’d thought they were currently traveling, and I realized that with everything in the past week with Noah’s family crisis, I hadn’t even considered their location or paid much attention to their social media.
Not that any of that knowledge was making the current reality any better.
Could one get whiplash from an extreme about-face of emotions?
Asking for a friend. Moments ago, I had just told the Spencer family about my books.
They’d reacted better than I could have imagined.
I’d felt pure joy and somewhat of a lightness inside, having shared this big of a secret with at least a few people close to me.
That lasted what, mere seconds? And now?
Now?
Now I was just standing there, staring dumbfounded at my family. I heard murmurings behind me and somehow knew the Spencers were gathering their food and heading somewhere… The dining room? No idea—I hadn’t exactly had a tour yet.
They were giving us privacy because of course they were. I’d invaded their family brunch, made them wait while I had my meltdown, dropped a literary bomb on them, celebrated, and now was having a family moment in their kitchen. I’m sure I would be invited back again next weekend.
Mental note, this would be great fodder for a character once I got over the little t trauma I was having here.
As I spiraled and wrapped my mind around the fact that not only were my family members standing in front of me but they’d also heard me announce I was an author, I felt an arm wrap around my waist. I immediately knew it was Noah standing beside me because of course he was, the giant green flag of a man.
Too bad his parents were no longer residing on this earth so that I could tell them that despite their best efforts, the man would stand alongside me to dismantle the patriarchy.
That he was the type of guy who would shout from the rooftops to celebrate my accomplishments long before he’d ever do the same for his own.
That he was good, down deep into his core, and couldn’t care less about their money or their world.
It had to be the strangest “get to know you” few weeks of all time, but I’d take it all over again to feel the support that was emanating out of him right now.
“You’ve got this,” he whispered, his arm squeezing me, and I nodded in response just before hearing my mom start up.
“Jules Marie Maxwell.” Her voice was a borderline screech.
Did I mention my mom was a fan of theatrics?
“Brace,” I whispered to Noah.
He gave me a knowing smile that indicated he remembered, at least.
“Hi, Mom.” I waved like a dork. “Dad.” Normally I’d give them both a big hug. Same with my aunt and uncle. Right that minute though, I was waiting for the bomb to explode and choosing to give them all some space.
“What do you mean, you’re an author?” My mom’s arms were waving in the air in her attempt to plead to the universe to make this make sense.
Her light brown hair had more grays than she liked, so she was likely headed to her fountain of youth soon to get that fixed.
I enjoyed the fact that she was still playing with fashion, a new interest of hers, with some baggy cuffed jeans and a flowy top.
At least she looked good while she lost it for a few minutes because we’d reached screeching levels now.
“Frannie.” My dad’s calm and cool voice worked to do its normal magic on my mom.
I had a sinking feeling it was not the day—we were going to need more than Dad being chill.
He was looking at her over the top of his glasses.
He looked casual, as he always did. The only hair on his head was a bit of a scruff on his face because he hadn’t shaved for a day or two.
“Jim,” my mom said, volume not decreasing in the slightest. The Spencers hadn’t needed to leave the room because as long as they were within two blocks, they’d hear the whole conversation.
Or at least Mom’s side of it. “Did you not hear our child? She said she’s an author and she had not informed her own flesh and blood. ” She turned to Lou. “Did you know?”
“Sure didn’t,” Lou said, though I was grateful to see she didn’t look upset. If anything, it looked like she was enjoying the show.
“I’m so hurt. Where did I go wrong? Why didn’t you trust us?
” My mom was approaching wailing levels now and making my guilt deepen.
She clutched her chest like I had physically wounded her.
If she could have placed a fainting couch in the kitchen, she would have been down for the count. All for show, but still.
“Frannie.” My dad’s voice was now at level two, the warning level he used when my mom didn’t respond to his calm one. Hopefully that would be enough.
“I know, I know, I know.” Mom’s hands were flying as she now moved around a kitchen that I don’t even know if she realized wasn’t hers.
She was fully in her element, like she was back in their days of community theater.
They’d given it up to travel the country, but Mom got her dramatics in when she could.
Sure enough, her tears started, right on time.
Big crocodile ones down her cheeks. “It’s just, why didn’t you tell us?
” She turned to me, and I knew she was finally ready for me to speak.
Don’t get me wrong. My mom wasn’t a bad person, not at all.
I knew to the very fiber of my core that my parents loved me.
But my mom was a true extrovert and felt her feelings deeply.
She lived her life loud and, at times, a bit haphazardly.
I simply didn’t. I appreciated her for being her, but to say we didn’t always look at the world the same way would be a severe understatement.
And maybe that was part of what had held me back from telling them.
Actually, as that popped in my mind, some realizations were hitting me hard and fast.
“Mom, Dad.” I looked to their left. “Lou, Verdell, I’m not sure what to say.”
My dad nodded to my side. “How about we start with introductions?”
Oof. I’d told my parents the bare-bones version of who Noah was over the past few weeks, especially when I’d left Highland Falls to go up to Madison, so they’d known where I was but they hadn’t met.
“So sorry,” I said, and Noah squeezed my side to tell me he understood. “Hey, guys, this is Noah Lawson. Noah, this is my mom Frannie. My dad Jim. And you know Lou and Verdell.”
My dad stepped forward with a hand out to shake Noah’s. “So sorry to hear about your parents, Noah, but it’s nice to meet you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Noah said. “And same.”
“Jim,” my dad replied.
Noah nodded. “Jim.”
Dad stepped to the side and gave me a hug. “Hey, sweetheart.”
I melted into his familiar embrace as I slid my arms under his lightweight vest and was enveloped in the scent that brought me home. “Hey, Dad.”
Mom came flying over, switching to caretaking mode.
“Oh, Noah dear.” She pulled him to her chest and rocked him back and forth forcefully, which was comical considering she was all of five foot three and Noah dwarfed her at almost a foot taller.
Of course, I was shorter than my mom, but I also wasn’t attempting to rock the man.
My mom was still hugging him. “I was so sorry to hear about your parents. If we hadn’t been all the way in the southwest, we could have made it back in time to be with you.”
Noah had some muffled response that was inaudible, but I smiled. It would do him some good to get my mom’s hugs for a bit. And it gave me some time to decide how to respond.
“Now Jules,” my mom said, stepping back, her tone indicating that she meant business.
Okay, maybe that had been wishful thinking.
“Mom.”
She moved over and picked up Steph’s copy of my book.
Looking at the cover, she ran her finger over my name, or my pen name, then looked at me with confusion evident on her face.
“I’ve read your books. They’re good. I mean, really good.
Why on earth wouldn’t you have told me, or told us, you wrote them? ”
Lou stepped up next to Mom. “I’ve read the first and second one, Jules, and I agree with your mom. They’re wonderful books.”
Noah was back by my side because of course he was. He stood like a silent sentry while I got my thoughts together. Frankly, when I thought about it for a moment, I was tired. Tired of keeping this to myself, tired of keeping it all in.
“Honestly? At first it was just a fun hobby. I started four years ago, and I wasn’t going to publish them.
But work was stressful, and this was my way to relax and write the world I wished I lived in.
” My heart ached when I thought of that girl because as tired as my mom thought I was months ago when she had me upend my life and move down here, if she’d seen me a few years ago, she would have lost her damn mind.
I had not been in a good place and, as Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton said, I was able to write my way out.
“And then?” My mom prodded me, knowing there was more.
I shrugged. “Then I ending up publishing for fun. The books came out fast, and I had four written before I knew what to do with them. I didn’t tell anyone because I figured maybe two or three people might read them and then I’d be done.
It was still just something for me, although my friend up in Chicago, Kylie, did know eventually, but we didn’t talk about it much. ”
My mom nodded, shocking to anyone who knew her. She stayed quiet and let me finish.