Chapter 19 #2
Mother scowled. “They are my grandmother’s recipe.”
Dad walked into the small living area. “Well, Lucille, I can see your touch. You do have a way of making a house a home.”
Mother didn’t know what to do with a compliment. “You can just take your cookie and leave, James Henry.”
“Nope,” her dad said, popping the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “I haven’t seen my daughter in ten years—”
“Eleven,” Scout said dryly.
“And it’s high time I got some time with her.”
“Dad, you can’t just disappear without a single word for over a decade and then show up because it suits you.”
“Without a single word?” Dad scoffed. “Hardly that.”
“Not hardly at all. Not a single word from you since you left us that day. Right here. In Acadia.”
Dad shot a questioning look at Lucille. “What does she mean?”
Naki cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should leave.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Scout said firmly.
“I think I need fresh air,” Mother said. “I’m goin’ to step outside.”
Her dad stepped forward, blocking her exit. “Hold it right there, Lucille. You’re not going anywhere. What does Scout mean by ‘disappear without a single word’? You gave them to her, didn’t you?”
“Gave me what?” Scout frowned, trying to figure out what her parents were bickering about.
Her mother busied herself with putting cookies from the tray into a plastic container, as if the party was over. A classic Mother move. Clearly uncomfortable, she was in avoidance mode.
Dad dropped a curse word, slamming his fist on the counter. “I should have known you were lying to me! When I asked you why I never heard anything back from Scout, you said she didn’t want anything to do with me.”
Scout’s gaze flicked from her mother to her father, searching their faces. “What in the world are you talkin’ about?”
“Tell her, Lucille,” her dad said, his voice full of finality. “Tell her or I will.”
Mother let out a heavy sigh before finally speaking. “I might have . . .” She cleared her throat. “Well, I might not have given you some of the correspondence your father sent.”
“Some?” Her dad scoffed again. “Some?!”
Mother lowered her gaze, her voice barely audible. “Your father would send a postcard now and then from wherever he was off to, gallivantin’ around the world. And I knew it would just upset you. So I . . . threw them out.”
Scout froze. “You didn’t give me his postcards?”
“Not just postcards,” her dad huffed. “Letters. Pictures. Gifts. From all over the world. Tell her, Lucille. How often did I send something to Scout?”
Looking away, Mother said in a mumble, “I suppose . . . every other week or so.”
“Every single week,” Dad said.
“Every week? Every. Single. Week?” Scout glared at her mother. “And you kept those from me? For how long?”
“Up until you graduated from college,” Dad said. “At that point, I figured you could find me if you wanted to, without your smother-mother hovering.”
Mother’s jaw dropped wide open. “Smother-mother?! Why, I never!”
Scout turned to her mother, the anger bubbling up inside her. “You told me Dad had divorced us both.” She turned to face him. “But he hadn’t, had he?”
Naki’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “Maybe because they aren’t divorced.”
“What?” Scout looked up at Naki, then at each parent. “Is that true?” She walked around the counter to sink onto the sofa, her head spinning. “I have the two craziest parents in the world.”
Her mother came to sit beside her, hands clasped tightly together, her voice thick with concern. “I only did what I thought was best for you. A mother knows best.”
“No,” Scout snapped, her words sharp. “No, Mother. You did what was best for you.”
Her mother flinched. “If that’s what it seems like, it’s only because your father’s influence was too strong on you.”
“Exactly,” Scout said, her voice rising with anger. “You kept him away, hoping you could turn me into a little Southern girl. You wanted me to be you.” She turned her gaze to her father, as if for the first time seeing him clearly. “But I wanted the life Dad showed me.”
“And you’ve got it, honey,” her dad said softly. “You’re living your own life, and I couldn’t be prouder.”
“Don’t.” Scout’s chest tightened. “Don’t sound so smug, Dad.” Her voice cracked, frustration pouring out like a flood. “You could’ve done more. You could’ve visited. You could’ve called. You could’ve been there for my high school or college graduations. You knew where I was.”
“Your mother made it clear you didn’t want me around.”
“Why did you believe her?” Scout said, astounded by her father’s gullibility. “Or maybe . . . it was just easier to believe Mother, so you could traipse around the world without a care.”
His face clouded, as though struck by the truth of her words. “I cared, Scout. I do care. You were never an inconvenience.”
“Then why didn’t you try harder?” Scout’s voice wavered.
He sighed, suddenly looking older. “I suppose . . . I always thought there’d be more time. But then you grew up.”
Tears burned Scout’s eyes, but she refused to blink them away. “Honestly, why didn’t you two just get divorced?”
Her father’s lips quirked. “We made a promise to each other. Till death do us part.”
Her mother scoffed. “You just forgot everything that came before that—like the part where we actually lived together as a family.”
Scout’s anger flared again. She grabbed her mother’s left hand, holding it too tightly. “That’s why you never took off your ring, isn’t it? You were never divorced.”
Scout dropped her mother’s hand and stood, shaking her head as she walked toward her father, taking his hand in hers.
His wedding band glinted in the dim light.
She lifted her eyes to Naki, who stood silently by the door.
“I think you’re right,” she said, voice tight.
“They’re still in love with each other.”
Her mother’s face twisted in disbelief. “That’s absurd.” She scowled at Naki. “Mr. Walamaki, I will thank you to stay out of this little family drama.”
Naki looked like a trapped animal. Scout’s heart went out to him. “Naki, you definitely need stitches. We’re going to MDI Hospital.” At the door, she paused, looking over her shoulder. “And you two had better figure things out before I get back.”
“We have nothing to figure out,” her mother said.
Her father, though, was calm, almost amused. “Oh, sure we do, Lucille,” he said, reaching for another cookie in the plastic container. “We’re just getting started.”
Scout’s frustration boiled over, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“You are like two peas in a pod! When you both want to do somethin’, look out, world.
But whatever you don’t want to deal with, you ignore.
” She put her hands on her hips. “So either you patch things up or you get divorced. Those are your only choices. And if you don’t make a decision one way or another by the time I return, then you’re both out of my life until you do. ”
She stormed out the door, Naki following her. Once they were in the car, he cast a sideways glance at her. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I. Sorry you had to see that.” He just got a real-life, deep-inside glance into her family.
It was too much for her. How could it not be too much for him?
Blood pounded in her temples. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the weight of it all, the frustration, the anger. All the missed moments with her dad.
“That was quite an ultimatum you gave.”
She blew out a puff of air. It was rather dramatic. “I wouldn’t actually cut them out of my life . . . if nothing changed.” And odds were, nothing would. Her parents were as stubborn as two mules in a snowstorm.
He met her gaze without hesitation. “I know you wouldn’t.”
She wanted to, though. Or at least, she wanted to want to.
But they were all the family she had. As furious as she was with her mother, she could understand her too.
It had always been the two of them, no matter what.
Dad was more appealing, but she counted on her mother.
She leaned back, eyes drifting to Naki. He sat silently, his bandaged hand resting on his knee, staring into the distance as if the conversation didn’t touch him.
Maybe it didn’t. Maybe his family was easier, steadier, free from the fractures and disappointments that defined hers.
She started the jeep’s engine and backed out of the driveway. A minute or two up the road, she said, “Families shouldn’t be like this.”
Naki took his time answering, his gaze still far off. “Families offer plenty of practice in one of God’s most basic life lessons.”
She arched a brow. “Which is?”
“The chance to take the high road.”
And just like that, Naki had dropped a wisdom bomb—something Elizabeth would say. Uncomfortable. Unsettling. But impossible to ignore. So many bombs were dropping on Scout, she could barely keep up.
The road bottlenecked into one lane because of a construction project. They sat in silence behind a row of cars, brake lights glowing like a trail of fireflies, watching the oncoming traffic creep past.
Naki shifted in the seat. “So how did your parents meet?”
Maybe he was really asking, how in the world did they fall in love and get married?
“Mother was visitin’ a cousin in Charleston and ended up on one of those historic harbor tours.
You know, the kind where they talk about pirates and Civil War blockades.
Except this one had my dad at the helm, and that meant it turned into a lecture on Spanish galleons and shipwrecks off the coast.”
Naki huffed a quiet laugh.
“She said she’d never seen someone talk about anything with that much passion.
He wasn’t just some tour guide rattlin’ off facts—he believed in what he was sayin’.
Got all worked up about lost history and the things the ocean still had to give up.
” Scout shook her head. “She was swept away before she even knew what hit her.”
Naki didn’t interrupt, just listened.
“She took another tour the next day. Same boat. Same guide. Dad had noticed her the day before, so he was feeling pretty pleased with himself.” She rolled her eyes.
“And you know how Dad is—never met a story he didn’t want to tell.
So, he started talkin’ to her after the tour.
Told her he was about to head down to the Keys to search for a wreck.
A merchant ship from the 1600s, lost in a storm, rumored to be carrying gold. ”
They hadn’t budged in over ten minutes. At this rate, they’d get to MDI Hospital by sunrise.
Scout drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.
“Mother always says she should’ve gone back to Atlanta right then.
But instead, she kept listenin’. And when he asked if she wanted to see what a real underwater excavation looked like, she said yes. ”
Naki raised an eyebrow. “She went diving with him?”
Scout snorted. “No. She sat on the deck of his research boat in a sundress and big sunglasses, sippin’ sweet tea while he and his crew pulled up old timbers and ballast stones.
But she swore it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her.
” She rolled her eyes. “They married a month later. Mother was convinced he’d eventually grow tired of chasing shipwrecks and settle into a ‘proper’ life in Atlanta.
Dad was just as convinced she’d learn to love the sea.
Neither of them was right.” She let out a long sigh. “They never should’ve married.”
“But then there’d never be a you.”
Scout stilled. His words landed deep, warm, and steady in a way she wasn’t prepared for.
Tears pricked her eyes. Her whole body felt wrung out from the last few days, topped off by this emotional blowup with her parents.
And now this. This lovely, kind, and—dare she say it?
—romantic response from him. She turned to him, their eyes catching, holding.
And just for a second, the exhaustion, the frustration, all of it faded into something quieter. Softer.
But then he lifted his hand, and she saw blood seeping through the butterfly bandages. “Scout, I think . . .”
She finished for him. “We’d better get you to the hospital.” Just then, with a final blink of red, the temporary traffic light switched to green—and they were off again.
Voicemail from Chase to Scout:
Hey, Scout. I waited for you at your cabin as long as I could. Had a lovely chat with your mother in the meantime. She’s every bit the Southern belle—gracious, charming, polished, and very particular about her tea. I’ve never had sweet tea before. I’m still jittery.
He coughed a laugh.
Anyway, now that the gold’s been found, I was hoping we could finally sit down and talk. Really talk. These last few days have been a whirlwind, and there’s a lot we need to sort through.
Long pause.
I’d love to take you out for a proper lobster dinner—something slow, no rushing off to chase shipwrecks or dodge danger. Just you and me, a little time to breathe. What do you say? I promise—I’ll never call you Magnolia Pearl. Ever.
He hesitated.
I’m free for dinner tomorrow. No, wait—scratch that. Maybe the day after? No, that won’t work either. Let’s shoot for the Fourth of July. Fireworks, lobster, good company—you can’t say no to that, right?
A beat of silence.
Then, softer—
Scout, you’re special to me. More than I can put into words. I haven’t felt this way about anyone since . . . well, maybe ever. So, call me, okay?