Twenty Two
TWENTY TWO
RHETT
I look around, taking in my bedroom at the Woodhouse home one last time. It’s simple but cozy. Soft yellow walls match the yellow and blue quilt covering the double bed. The house always smells of comfort food, something I know I’ll miss at my own place.
Mrs. Woodhouse stands at the door looking at me sadly. “I meant it when I said you were welcome here for as long as you need,” she says as she clutches my final unpacked shirt against her chest. She insisted on helping me pack my very few belongings despite everything fitting in a single suitcase and my guitar case. The tears that slide down her wrinkled cheeks crack open the piece of me this woman’s selfless love has taken hold of.
“Please don’t cry. I’ll still be on the island, just not right down the hall.”
“I know,” she says with a sniffle. “It’s been a true pleasure to have you here.” She gives me a sad smile. “You’re the son of my heart. The son I always wanted but God in His infinite wisdom decided not to give me.”
She would have made an incredible mother, but God’s plans aren’t always our plans.
“That’s a very humbling thought.” It’s hard not to get choked up. “I will never be able to pay you guys back for all you did for me.” Nancy as well as Dr. Woodhouse, have been the landing place I needed during these struggles. There’s not a doubt in my mind this was also God working for my good. My mom may no longer be on this earth, but God gave me Nancy to help me navigate through these difficult and unexpected times.
Nancy gently smacks my shoulder. “We don’t want paid back. We want you to be happy…to find God’s call for your life and the wife He’s handpicked for you.”
“Well, you’re not getting rid of me. I’ll be over here for dinner as frequently as you’ll have me.”
She visibly relaxes and hands over my last shirt. This time, her smile isn’t sad. “That’s good to hear. It makes letting you leave just a tiny bit easier.”
When I arrive at my new home, Dana, West, Olivia, and Rosa are all standing on the small covered porch. I walked past this bungalow a hundred times when I worked here, but knowing it’s my new home—at least temporarily—makes me look at it in a whole new light.
Rosa sits on one of the two rocking chairs, giving me a warm smile. Olivia sits in the other rocker, her husband—and my old boss—West stands behind her with his hand on her shoulder.
“Welcome home!” Rosa says, standing and greeting me with a hug.
“Thanks,” I mumble into her hair.
When I look over to West, he slips off his stoic mask and smiles. “I hope you find your amenities tolerable.”
“I appreciate this more than I can say.” I reach forward and shake his hand.
Olivia says, “I think you’ll like it here.”
“I hope you can make this your home soon. We’ll leave you all to get settled.” West looks down at his wife with an expression very clearly just for her and she flushes.
“You two have fun!” Dana smirks. She links arms with Rosa and sings her way into the bungalow as I follow behind.
It’s only slightly larger than my 800-square-foot home, but my bedroom is its own room, which is an upgrade from my studio-style hut. The small kitchen has just enough space for a stove, miniature refrigerator, sink, and coffee pot. Thankfully, the whole home is already furnished, another nod to West’s generosity despite our rocky past.
“It’s cute,” Dana says, turning in a slow circle and taking it all in.
I walk over to stand beside her. “Please never refer to anything about me as cute. It detracts from my masculine energy.”
Dana rolls her eyes, but Rosa is the one to say, “Masculine energy is hogwash. You’re as man as you allow yourself to be. No one can emasculate you without your approval.” A slow smile stretches across her lips. “But Dana is right; this place is cute.”
The three of us let out a laugh, and it feels good. For weeks, I’ve felt nothing but the weight of my past on my shoulders, and before that, the frustration of having no memories at all. But being here with Dana and Rosa, the weight shifts ever so slightly, allowing me this moment to breathe and laugh and smile.